Quest to Forochel
by Painton
Summary: Fili and Kili were young and inexperienced by Dwarf standards, so how did they convince their uncle to take them on a hopeless quest to defeat a dragon? When a stranger arrives at Ered Luin with a small box and a story, Fili sees the chance for adventure. But experience comes at a price and there are no happy endings. Some violence beginning at chapter 11.
1. Chapter 1

**It's been a long time since I started this story… about 45 chapters over six months, so I thought I'd better update the intro. I was inspired to write this story after seeing The Hobbit movie, but have held to the book canon in nearly everything but Kili's hair color. It is a bit slow to start, but I promise picks up later on – around chapter 18. There will be more action and adventure and, maybe, a bit of angsty romance (I haven't decided about that yet).**

**I could not find a definitive source and so, for the purposes of this story, the Dwarf Home of Ered Luin is located a few miles north of the Little Lhun River. Ankor and its people, as well as the geography of northern Eriador are my own interpretations based on the history and themes in Tolkien's works.**

**I own nothing that is Tolkien's, and what ****_is_**** mine was inspired by his work, so I can't really claim ownership of that either. The poems/songs are original to me.**

**I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it.**

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Fili leaned against the wall, mostly hidden in shadow. He wanted a full pipe and a quiet place to smoke it, but he stood where he was and waited. It wasn't long before the door opened and Balin emerged. The old dwarf's shoulders were bowed down under a weight and he sighed.

Fili stood up straight and Balin saw him. He shook his head, but approached the younger dwarf with a good natured smile.

"Lurking in doorways, lad," he said. "Did your mother teach you no manners?"

"She told me that her elder brother needs looking after at times," Fili said, "but that is not why I am here. I knew that you meant to leave early and wanted to say farewell before you did."

"Did you, now?" Balin looked at him from under bushy eyebrows. "Wasn't there perhaps something else that you wished to say as well?" When Fili said nothing, only shifted uncomfortably on his feet, Balin added slowly, his voice low, "Perhaps I already know what you would say."

"He is not well," Fili said. "He has been too quiet, hasn't spoken a word even when Kili runs uncontrolled through the mountain, causing mischief, and down into the town at will. There is a cloud that hangs over Thorin that I do not understand."

"No," Balin agreed, "you don't understand, but you can name it, can't you, lad? So can we all."

"Erebor," Fili muttered.

Balin nodded. "He's thought long on that mountain, and the treasure under it, and the guardian within it. I don't know yet what's brought the itch on him so suddenly, but it won't be long now. Has he spoken to you of the Lonely Mountain?"

"Only to tell the old tales, but I guess more than enough to know that he would retake the mountain if he could. You think that he would go, that he could convince our people to take on the dragon?"

Balin shook his head and patted Fili's shoulder. "I think that our people have waged wars enough and it will be long before we have stomach for it again. But Thorin means to attempt it and, like his Father and grandfather before him, I fear that in the attempt we may lose a great King."

"Then we must go with him, my brother and I, too. If he wanders alone, as Thrain did…"

"You can try. I think it would do your uncle good to know you're behind him on this, but I doubt that he'll agree to take you along. You can't help your age, but you've seen little of the world."

"I won't let him leave me behind. I know that Kili would say the same." Fili clenched his fist in his hand. "We will find a way…"

.

Betta sighed and stepped into the pub. It wasn't the sort of place she willingly frequented. It wasn't that she objected to the dirt or the smell, but it was not in her nature to go looking for trouble, and the hard-bred men of such remote towns as this one had a tendency to create trouble when they felt a woman was transgressing on their territory.

The noise of the pub had been loud and spilled out into the street, but as soon as she entered, it fell from boisterous laughter to a low, surprised murmur as a dozen or more grubby faces turned to have a look at her. She was not only a woman, but a stranger as well, and both things would work against her here, especially among the dwarves.

She had covered most of her appearence, at least. The clothes, cloaks and weaponry she carried covered her female attributes almost entirely. If the weather had been colder, she might have obscured her face and hair as well. As it was, her hair was so full of mud and her cheeks smudged with it, too, that most of the men turned away without noticing her womanhood. A few, however, especially among the Men, gave her more interest than she was comfortable with. Women did not simply walk into the beer-halls of a mining town.

Betta had only been in this particular town for two days, long enough to learn that what she sought would be found here. The pub was the largest in town and had been built out of the skeleton of an ancient barn in the early years when the dwarves were newly returned to Ered Luin. The back wall could still be opened onto the narrow alley behind and, even though winter was coming, the weather was warm and the large barn-doors stood open.

Betta scanned the afternoon crowd of men and dwarves and found the pair she was looking for. The old washer-woman had been right to say that they would be together: a blond and a brunette, two dwarves with thin beards and fine buckles. They sat at a table near the open doors at the back. Betta ordered a pint at the bar and paid with a coin that more than covered her drink; the rest paid for the delivery of a message.

She chose an empty table near enough to the dwarves, but far enough away as well. She swallowed the sour beer and stared down at her dirty hands. Her nails were broken and her knuckles bruised from the hard life she had lived in recent years. Her mother would have been proud and her father disappointed to see their only daughter working at hard labor to pay for her food; that is, when she wasn't forced into washing and sewing by her sex. It was a long walk from the mountains of Gondor to the Ered Luin, and not all needs could be fished or foraged.

Two mugs of beer were dropped onto the table across from her, and two bodies followed, dropping onto the bench. She looked up with a start.

"We heard you've got a job for us?" the dark-haired dwarf said cheerfully, but there was something sharp in his eyes, as if he were looking for a laugh at her expense. He would be Kili, if the washer-woman had told her right.

"...like we're mercenaries or something," the fair-haired dwarf, the elder brother who would be Fili, said. He spoke in the same joking manner as his brother, but there seemed to be more insult in his eyes and less humor. He glanced at his brother, and Betta had a feeling that it had been Kili who agreed to this meeting and Fili would rather have ignored her.

Betta looked at Kili, but he seemed only to be waiting curiously for an answer. She had given her speech to dwarves from one end of Middle Earth to the other, but those had been common dwarves. They had been proud, in their own way, but these two were considered royalty among dwarves, and it was clear in their eyes that they were only humoring her.

"I have no use for mercenaries," she said. She had been turned down by dwarves from one end of Middle Earth to the other, as well. "I need to have something opened."

"Opened?" Kili echoed.

Fili only stared at her, eyes narrow and the joke gone.

Reluctantly, Betta took out the box and set it in the center of the table. "I've asked this of Men from the Anduin to the Isen, and each one told me, go to the dwarves. And so, I've asked this of Dwarves across Eriador, and they all answered the same…" She saw curiosity in Kili's face, but nothing changed in Fili's expression.

She went on, "They told me, the Dwarves of Durin are the most skilled and knowledgeable when it comes to relics of the elder days." Kili picked up the box and turned it over. Betta felt a pull in her heart to see it in someone else's hands, but she reminded herself that that was what she was here for. "It came to me from my father's family. The key was lost many years ago."

Kili tossed the box to Fili, who glanced at it, and then tossed it back. Kili tossed it to Betta with a shrug. "You don't need a key with that," he said. "A bit of fire and a torch'll open that right up." He sat back in his seat with his mug happily nestled in his hand, and left it to his brother to give the final word.

"I don't know what's in it," she said. She set it on the table again but kept her hands around it. "If there's paper, or something fragile…" She shook her head. "No, I need it opened, not broken into."

"I could give you the name of a good locksmith," Fili said, sitting back with his mug and a smirk.  
Betta looked back and forth between the two of them, at their matching smiles. It was a dismissal if ever she'd had one, and she had never had one that felt so much like a slap to her face. "Alright," she said. "I suppose opening a box is beneath you… or you can't do it. Either way, there are plenty of dwarves in the mountains."

She stood up to go.

"Not so fast now, lass." Fili rose suddenly and took hold of her arm.

It was a reflex. That was the only excuse she could offer for the stupid thing that she did next, but he had put his hand on her and before she could check herself, she had pulled the knife from under her coat and held it before her, aimed at his throat. Kili drew his sword and pressed the point against her chest. His expression was no longer playful or curious. His eyes were deadly serious.

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**This is my first major, multi-chapter fic, so please review and let me know how I'm doing. I'll be the first to admit that I hesitate when I find an OFC in fanfiction, but I am a huge fan of female protagonists in regular fiction so I hope you'll give her a chance. Any constructive criticism will be gratefully accepted.**

**-Paint**


	2. Chapter 2

Betta glanced at Fili, who tipped his head toward the pub over her left shoulder. She glanced back and saw that at least a dozen dwarves had jumped from their seats and had hands the on handles of their knives and axes. They hadn't drawn them yet. This wasn't their fight. Yet.

Betta looked down at Fili's hand on her arm, the source of their troubles. She wasn't certain that she _could_ lower her weapon unless he let go first.

Whether he realized the trouble or simply didn't think she was worth the fight, slowly, he released her arm, lifted his hand and took it away. He stepped back, and Betta lowered her knife; although, she had a good idea that he could have taken the knife from her, and probably broken her arm, with very little trouble if he had had a mind to risk it. She put it in its sheath that was strapped to her back, glad that her mistake hadn't bought more trouble than she could pay for.

Fili sat down again, but it took several moments longer before Kili lowered his sword. He stood, with the point pressed against her throat, staring hard at her. She held out her hands and waited patiently. He could kill her, or not, what did it matter? If the Dwarves of Durin couldn't help her, then there was no one left in Eriador, and she had come all this way for nothing.

Finally, Kili sheathed his sword, and Betta let out the breath that she had been holding.

"Sit," Fili ordered. "What do you want from us, then?" He drank his beer and didn't seem to care whether she sat down again or ran out of the pub. In fact, he seemed to prefer the latter.

Betta looked around. The other dwarves had gone back to their drink. One or two were snickering at her, thinking it had been a great joke that their kinsmen had played on a silly woman. She forced herself to sit down. Fili motioned for the box, and she very reluctantly handed it over again.

"My family came down from the ice lands of the North, no one knows how long ago, and settled in what is now called Lebennin. I do not know how old the box is, but my father said that he believes it was about this time that it was first mentioned in our history." Betta paused, looking up at the dwarves, expecting to find them uninterested, but they were both listening intently.

She went on. "When the wild men of Harad and the south began making raids on the coast, many of us and my family moved north and east and made a home under the peaks of Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains. We lived there for many years, until darkness came out of the east, from… the black land. There is great war in Gondor."

"There is always war among Men," Kili said.

"There is often war among Dwarves," his brother reminded him. He motioned for her to go on.

"Well, in this war, my uncles marched to battle and were killed on the hills of Ithilien. My brothers fell also, defending Osgiliath from an invasion of Orcs out of the North. Many families were looking to the White Tower for safety, but my father took me and my mother away in a wagon. We lived for a season with the horse lords of Rohan, but they were often raided by the hill people. Before the year was out, my father had died fighting alongside their warriors. My mother died that winter, of grief."

Betta paused in her story for a moment, thinking of times past. Fili and Kili both seemed sympathetic; at least, they weren't laughing at her, or yawning.

She went on, finishing her tale. "Before my father left, he gave me this box, and said that it is an heirloom of our family and contains clues to our past and a map to our future. There is treasure in this box, he used to say. Generations ago, a father had two sons. He gave to one, this box; to the other, the key, and said that when our family was in need, the two would come together and there would be treasure, so he said."

"Treasure?" Kili echoed, looking at the box with greater interest. Fili had been turning it over in his hands during her story and now he, too, looked more closely at it, running his thumb over the letters carved on the lid.

It wasn't a large box. It was six inches along, three inches tall and three deep, and it could sit easily on the palm of Betta's hand. The metal was old and of man-make; it had been corroded by time to a dark gray that was almost black, but the original silver could still be seen in the rivets and bands. The lid was stamped with runes, but what they once might have said was lost, and even their language could only be guessed at. On one side was a small hole where a key would fit, but the seam of the lid was all but invisible.

"You've lost the key…" Fili said thoughtfully.

"If there ever was one," Betta said. "Even if what my father said was true, that line of our family was long ago lost. He did not know the name of the father who first handed down the box, and there is no way to discover to whom the key has been given."

"What do you propose to pay us for opening this box?"

Betta hesitated. Early in her search, she had had plenty of money to pay Man or Dwarf who attempted to open the box, but after almost two years never staying anywhere long enough to fill her purse, she had limited resources. Certainly, she didn't have enough money to impress an important dwarf, which these two obviously were.

Two sets of eyes were on her now, waiting.

"Ten… crowns," she said weakly. The coins of Gondor bought bread and shelter well enough even in Eriador, but gold was the word that opened doors, and she had none.

"Ten crowns?" Kili laughed. "I haven't heard… you actually have these coins?"

She took one from her purse and held it up. He snatched it from her hand and stared at it in amazement. "I did not know these were still used anywhere in Middle Earth!"

"They use them in the south. You know that," Fili said quietly. He was looking intently at the box again, and behind his stern expression, wheels were turning; he raised his eyes to Betta. "What do you think is inside it?" he asked her.

She opened her mouth to protest, to repeat that she had no guess, but that would be a lie. She had her guesses. "I think… that whatever was in it turned to dust long ago," she said. "The box is sealed, but time has little care for locks and steel bands. What was put into it in the beginning, I think, was something written, on cloth or paper, regarding the early days of my family line. There is something else, something hard; you can hear it when you shake it next to your ear."

Fili held the box to his ear and shook. Sure enough, there was the faintest sound of a muffled clunk as something struck the inside of the box. Whatever it was had little space to move and was packed in tightly.

"I know that what I am offering is not the payment that you are used to dealing in, but it is a long walk from Anduin, and I travel lightly. If there is treasure, as my father believed, I will gladly pay your price out of that…"

Kili had been tossing her coin from hand to hand, flipping it between his fingers and performing tricks that might have amused a small child, but they did not amuse Betta. He grinned and shook his head, "So, we're to open this box for you for the price of ten bits of stamped silver – not pure silver, either, from the weight of it – and the promise of a share _if_ any treasure comes of it? I think that if you have indeed walked from Anduin, and are not telling long tales, then you have made the journey for no reason. You'd be better off with a blacksmith."

He tossed the coin at her. She caught it and tucked it away. Whatever he might think of her money, the bartender had accepted it, and the innkeeper before him.

"I offer as much as I have," she said, "and the job is what it is."

"Whatever is in this box will lead you to treasure, you think?" Fili asked her.

"It is what my father believed."

He frowned. "This treasure won't just be lying around. It seldom is. You'll need to go hunting for it. There's an adventure in this box, as well."

"Probably," she agreed. "I haven't had reason to think far ahead. Probably there will be another long journey for me, more danger, possibly death. That's usually what goes along with this sort of thing, isn't it?"

"Usually." Fili drained his beer and set the mug on the table. "We'll take it," he said and stood up.

"We will?" Kili looked up at his brother.

"You will?" Betta echoed.


	3. Chapter 3

Fili left the table and went out the back door of the pub. His brother followed. Betta stared after them for a moment in confusion and then remembered that the dwarf still held her box. She jumped up from the table and hurried after them.

"Wait!" she called.

They stopped and turned back. "Wait for what?" Kili asked.

Fili held the box loosely in his hand, and Betta snatched it back before he could stop her. He looked startled, and then angry that she had caught him by surprise for the second time. He did not understand how important the box had become to her. Precious would not be too strong a word for it, although it was not one that she used often.

"Changed your mind?" he asked.

"You said you'll take _it_. Take what? You'll open the box?"

"Better," Fili said, grinning. "We'll help you find your treasure, too."

"You will?"

"We will?" Kili stared at his brother. Fili gave him a hard look, and he shrugged and nodded in agreement. "We will."

"If you want your box opened properly, it will cost more than the coins you're offering. I, however, am offering two able dwarves to hunt your treasure with you, and I think you'll find you need the help."

"And if there is no treasure? If the box is empty?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Then you'll have your answer. You'll know what was inside."

Betta searched his face but saw nothing there to tell her what he was thinking. His brother was no help either, willing to follow Fili's lead to whatever end.

"If there's treasure," she said. "We'll split it three ways even." Fili's was surprised at the offer. A third cut for him and his brother each was more than he would have asked. "But if there is no treasure, or no map to any treasure in this box," Betta went on, "you'll take ten crowns and nothing more will be said of it. Ever."

Betta knew that her offer, both of her offers, were overly generous, and she could see that the brothers were suspicious, but she didn't care. Money could always be made, one way or another, but the answers to her questions would only be found by opening the box in her hand. She did not want to let this chance slip away.

"It's a deal, then," Fili said, holding out his hand. She took it, seeing her own small hand almost disappear as it was wrapped up in his large, leather glove. After they had shaken on it, he still held out his hand. "The box?" he said.

"I will be there when you open it," she said.

He took back his hand and frowned at her again. "No human is allowed in the dwarf halls of the mountains," he said.

It was Betta's turn to shrug. "However you manage it, I will be there when this box is first opened. I don't know what is in it."

"You think that we would steal?" Kili said angrily.

"I think that what might be inside will mean nothing to you," she said. "I was raise on tales of inheritance boxes. Some contain notes, some valuable objects. Some magical boxes contain nothing but a breath of air, a scent or even a sound. If you open it, and I'm not there, what it contains could be gone forever, and with it any hope of treasure."

Kili was scowling, but the lure of treasure was too much to refuse. Fili seemed to be convinced as well. He nodded. "Tomorrow at sunrise, come to the Gates. Bring your precious treasure chest."

He looked her up and down, shook his head, then both brothers turned and walked away. Betta still had her box and her coins so that even if they would change their minds tonight, she lost nothing for this encounter.

.

Once they were out of earshot, Kili turned to his brother. "Why did you agree to this?" he asked. "Opening a box is one thing, but a treasure hunt! And an undoubtedly fruitless one, too! What will Thorin say?"

"Thorin will be glad to be rid of us for a few days," Fili said.

"Days?"

He laughed. "You think it will take longer for her to realize that her treasure hunt is fruitless? Or, more likely, that she has no taste for the wilderness."

"She claims that she came all this way from Gondor," Kili reminded him.

"But you don't believe that she did," Fili reminded him. Neither one of them believed it. The brothers had hardly been out of sight of their mountain home since their mother had sent them to live with Thorin. "She probably hired a wagon or joined a merchant's caravan for most of it," Fili scoffed. "She's green, like any human, but if it means telling Thorin that we're going on an adventure for a few weeks…"

"You said days," Kili interrupted. Fili raised an eyebrow, and his brother laughed. "Leave it to you to turn some human fable into a free pass out from under the watchful eye of his lordship."

"Yes, a pass," Fili said. A dark look passed over his face.

Kili saw it and frowned. "What is it you're thinking?" he asked.

Fili looked around. There weren't many men or dwarves near them on the street, but he pulled his brother away to a quiet corner to be safe. "You haven't noticed that our dear uncle has kept very close company with himself these past few weeks?"

"He's quiet, certainly," Kili agreed, "but he's always been a sullen man." He made light of it, but what his brother had said was true. Thorin had been unusually quiet and more sullen than ever. He had been brooding on some dark thought and more than his nephews had noticed.

"I spoke with Balin before he left. He asked if Thorin has said anything to me about Erebor."

"Erebor? He talks of nothing else!" Kili exclaimed.

"Quiet!" Fili shook his brother by the arm. "He used to talk of nothing else. Think! When was the last time you heard that name pass his lips? Not since his return from the east."

Kili opened his mouth and then closed it again. His brother was right. Thorin hadn't mentioned the mountain since his return, not by name, anyway. And it was since his return from Bree that he had grown more thoughtful and quiet, too. Kili hadn't thought about it before because he was so used to his uncle's moods that he hadn't noticed it.

"What did you say to Balin?"

"The truth, that Thorin has not spoken of it in recent days." Fili tightened his hold on Kili's arm and pulled him close. In a whisper he said, "Balin told me that Thorin is considering taking on the dragon. He wants to return to The Mountain."

"Now, that would be an adventure!" Kili exclaimed.

"Yes, it would be… if we were allowed to go with him."

"You think he would refuse us?"

"I think that he would leave without telling us that this is where he means to go. Balin said that Ori has begun to read portents in the sky. I don't know what he meant by it, but something is coming, and soon. Either way, you know what Thorin thinks of us."

Kili nodded. Their uncle had never been subtle in telling the brothers that they were inexperienced and knew nothing of the world beyond Eriador, beyond the Misty Mountains where danger was more than wild wolves and bears. A loyal and willing heart were all he needed he so often said of other dwarves, but not his nephews. Fili and Kili had yet to live up to Thorin's high standards, no matter how often he said that he was proud of them.

"So, you think that Thorin would fall for this trick? That he will believe we are going on an adventure and that will convince him to bring us when he takes on Erebor?" Kili shook his head. "He'll never believe it. A few days in the woods and we return empty handed. That won't convince him of anything except that the mountains are quieter when we're out of them."

Fili laughed. "Then we must not return empty handed, brother!" he said, clapping Kili on the back. They stepped back into the street and walked on. "Wait 'til tomorrow. In this, we have something in common with the woman," he said. "We'll wait to see what's in this steel box before we make our plans."

"And before we say a word to our dear uncle," Kili said, throwing his arm around his brother's shoulders as they headed for home.

* * *

**This was a shorter chapter than I had planned, but the next will be much longer, and we'll finally find out what is in Betta's box. This has turned out to be a more involved project than I expected. I hope that you're enjoying it as much as I am.**

**-Paint**


	4. Chapter 4

Betta returned to her room at the inn. Not for the first time, she wondered why she hadn't camped in the woods outside the town. The answer was obvious – because there was more danger alone in the woods close to a mining town than there was within the town itself. But that didn't stop her from missing the quiet company of the birds and trees. Dwarves were alright for company, but she wished herself back in that strange little land she'd discovered, The Shire.

The Hobbits were a people of legend in Gondor, and Betta had been delighted to discover them living creatures. They were quiet and simple, like the birds and trees, and she would gladly have settled in one of their small hill-houses but for the box. The Hobbits wouldn't take her in willingly, but she was not much taller than a dwarf, and dwarves were grudgingly allowed into The Shire for business and trade. Maybe she couldn't live within their little land, but she could find a place near to it in the wild northern hills where no man dwelt.

She washed her hands and face in a bowl of icy water then climbed into bed still dressed and with her weapons close at hand. She has seen the wars of the south, and knew what dangers could come upon the unwary.

.

That night, Fili did not sleep well. Across from him, in the room they shared, Kili slept like a log. A log that snored. When Fili closed his eyes, the mountain of Erebor rose before him. He could not stop thinking on the words he had shared with Balin three days before. Thorin would not take his nephews with him; he did not think they were tough enough for such an adventure. Balin had been sympathetic, but Fili could tell that he agreed.

When sleep finally came to him in the dark hours of the night, he dreamed of mountains and dragons and the wars of men in the south. In his dream, he saw great armies marching forth to war and forest set aflame with the dragon fire, consuming all that was in its path. His uncle was there with an army of dwarves, but they were all consumed in fire.

Fili woke with a gasp. Kili was already up and dressed, sitting on the edge of his cot as he pulled on his boots.

"Bad dreams, brother?" he asked.

Fili shook his head. "I don't recall," he lied. He reminded himself that he did not believe in dream omens. "You're up early."

Kili shrugged. "You told the woman we'd meet her at sunrise. I thought one of us ought to actually show up."

"What time is it?"

"We've about an hour yet."

With a groan, Fili sat up. "You should ready the forge," he said. "The fires will need time to heat. I'll meet the woman. "

Kili looked at him in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

His brother shrugged. "You did not seem to like her much yesterday. And she has already pulled a knife on you once." Kili grinned. It wasn't often that someone got the drop on his brother; that it had been a human woman made the moment priceless. "I wish that Thorin could have seen it."

Fili cringed. "I am glad that he didn't." He sighed and began to dress. "Ready the forge. I'll go down to the Gates. With luck, Thorin will not hear about this until we've found whether that box is empty or full."

"With more luck, he won't hear about it until we tell him," Kili said. He looked closely at his brother. "Are you sure that you are alright?"

Fili put on a smile. "Good as new." He kept up the smile until his brother was out of the room, and then let it fall. Let Kili keep his mind quiet; Fili's head was full of worry and confusion. He was not as confident as he had made himself sound. Both brothers had their doubts about the woman and her quest, and Thorin was as likely to deny them this adventure as he was the quest for Erebor. When it came time to tell their uncle, it would have to be handled diplomatically.

.

Betta woke early that morning. She put on her coat, cloak and hood, and her knife as well. She looked longingly at her bow and quiver, but it would be unusual to wear it around town and an insult to wear it into the dwarves' mountain when the brothers were already making an exception to their law for her.

The streets were quiet as she made the long, steep trek up to the Gates. A thin, morning mist lay in patches where the ground was low and damp. Soon, the autumn rains would give way to winter snow and the ground would freeze solid. Today, it was soft and muddy and sank under her boots with a wet, sucking sound.

The sun had not yet colored the sky when she reached the Gates. Betta found a corner where the ground was mostly dry and crouched down to wait. She took out some bread and cheese for her breakfast and ate slowly, enjoying the quiet.

.

Fili was late to the Gates. He did not care if the woman had been kept waiting, but he didn't know how long they would have the forge to themselves. He had chosen the south-facing forge because it was most often empty, only heated when the other, better equipped rooms were all in use.

The dwarves' home in Ered Luin was in a tall, wide mountain near to the northernmost tribute of the river Lhun. A great wall ran between two great spurs of the mountain facing east, and the Gates that were the only entrance had been built across the main road that led up from the mining town. The road ran on eventually coming to an end before the front door of the mountain. The Gates were tall and wrought of steel and sliver, pretty in their own way, but mere echoes of the grand entrances to the dwarves' ancient homes of Moria and Erebor.

By the time Fili arrived, the sun was above the horizon, but there was no sign of the woman. He cursed under his breath. If she had run off, then they had done all this work for nothing.

"I thought you had changed your mind."

He spun around. The woman stood a few steps from him; she had stopped just beyond the reach of a sword. He would have laughed that she thought he would pull his weapon here, before the doors of his own mountain, but perhaps she had only left a polite distance between them and it was his own dreams of battle that made him think of sword lengths and weapons.

"We've a forge ready," he said. "This way. Keep your head down and try to look…" He looked her over. She was short enough to be a dwarf, a tall dwarf. She was not pretty by the measures of Men, and the bulky coat she wore might fool those who knew no better, but no dwarf would be fooled. "Come this way."

They passed the Gates and started up the road. Halfway to the front door, they turned off the road and followed a path that curved south and west around a tall boulder; they were out of sight of the Gates and the road. Once he was sure they wouldn't be seen from above or below, Fili stopped and turned to her.

"Your name," he said.

"What?"

She stood eye to eye with him. If he hadn't been standing above her on the hill, she might have had an inch up on him. He was more used to being looked down on by Men.

"What is your name?" he repeated.

"My brothers called me Betta, when they were alive," she said. She was used to being looked down upon, too.

"When you lived in Gondor," Fili said.

"Yes."

"Before you crossed the wide lands. Alone."

"Yes."

"Hm." Fili frowned and shook his head. He started walking again before he realized that she wasn't following. He looked back. "What now?"

"Is it a Dwarf custom that introductions fall only one way?" she asked.

"You came to us. You know my name already," he said.

"I may have spent recent years in the wild lands, but I was not raised there," she said. "You have demanded my name, and now I ask for yours in return. That is the way of polite introduction, but perhaps it is not Dwarf custom."

Fili crossed his arms, but her long, proud speech reminded him of his uncle when Thorin would stand forth as leader of the Dwarves of Ered Luin to negotiate with the Men of the town. "It is not our custom to follow the customs of others," he told her.

Betta had no right to demand his name, and all that she could say was, "As you wish it." and wait for him to walk on.

But Fili knew that if he and his brother were going to travel in the wild with this woman, they needed to be on friendly terms. Reluctantly, he said, "I am Fili, at your service." The words came so naturally out of habit that he said them without thinking and only caught himself halfway into a bow. "My brother is called Kili. Are you satisfied?"

She nodded, and they walked on. Betta had seen plenty of mountains on her long journey, and many of them larger than the Dwarves' home in Ered Luin, but still the great heights and steep cliffs were impressive. The ground was littered with boulders cast down from above, and the path wound between them. The forge was half a mile from the Gates, out of sight of just about everything. She could smell the sea from this high hill, and it reminded her of family's home in fair Lebennin when she was young.

Kili had done his job. The chimneys were smoking and the heat of the furnace could be felt as they climbed the rough-hewn steps to the door. They entered and passed down a wide stair into a large room. It was cut at odd angles to funnel heat from the furnace away from the wider spaces and up through shafts in the ceiling. Other vents had been cut with skill to let in fresh air and to release the smoke from the fire. Betta marveled at the red hot stone, the deep basins of coal and wood, and the arms of the bellows that were as long and as thick as her arms.

Kili was there before them, his heavy coat thrown over a post near the door. He was shoveling coal into the furnace with his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His arms were strong and thick, straining at the heavy work. His face dripped with sweat as he stood grinning at his brother.

"There you are!" he called. "I thought you had forgotten about me."

"The woman was late," Fili said.

Betta did not argue. She was staring into the white heat of the open furnace. This was not the forge of a blacksmith. For the first time, she actually believed that these dwarves would be able to do what so many before them had not.

"We should get to work," Fili said.

Betta remembered that the box was still in her pocket. "Of course," she said, handing it to him with reluctance. The steel was strong, but it would not last five seconds in the middle of that blazing fire. She regretted breaking the thing to find out what was inside, but there was no other way.

Fili took the box and pointed her toward a corner far from the furnace. "Sit there, and don't go wandering," he told her as he threw his coat next to his brother's.

"And watch your fingers, lass," Kili added, still grinning. "Those pipes are hot!"

Row upon row of pipes ran across the ceiling and up and down the walls of the room. Some were thick as tree trunks and some as thin as a piece of twine; all of them passed back and forth like the roots of the very mountain. The corner where Fili had sent her was a deep step separating the main forge from an dark and unused alcove. Several of the smaller pipes ran down the walls on either side.

Betta took off her coat and cloak and folded them beside her. The heat of the forge was oppressive, and the thick air made her drowsy. She looked across the smoky, wavering air to watch the dwarves at work.

It was an impressive sight, and more than a little intimidating to see how strong they were. She had met dwarves upon dwarves on her search and had thought them a tough and sturdy people, but nothing more than that. Watching the brothers move swiftly from the bellows to the grate, from the table to the shelves, she marveled at their gracefulness. They worked together, each never getting in the other's way. Her box was small and dull against the gleam of fire that flashed on metal tools and polished, stone walls.

Both dwarves were sweating as they worked, their hair plastered to their forehead and their shirts stuck to their backs. Once the fires were ready, Kili brought a bundle of thin leather to the table and rolled it out. He unfolded and unfolded, and unfolded again, each time revealing finer and finer tools. Fili took the box and examined it. He tested the different tools against it while Kili kept the fires going, heating and bringing to him anything that he called for.

Fili used all his knowledge to break the metal and magic of the box. He knew that there were dwarves in the mountain with greater skill and subtlety than he had, but he was determined to solve the puzzle himself. The box was old, but it was also Man-made and not as difficult as the ancient works of Elves or Dwarves.

As Betta watched, she thought that she heard Fili murmuring under his breath words that she did not understand. She knew the dwarf tongue was secret and that they did not speak it openly to other races. She willed her ears to close and not to hear it. The heat and the pounding of the metal, the murmur of Fili's strange language and the sound of Kili pumping the bellows blended together into one long, low music and, with the dancing smoke and fire, she dozed and fell into a shallow sleep. The chanting of Dwarves echoed in her dreams as voices out of the deep places of the world.

Kili's triumphant cry woke her suddenly, and she leapt to her feet, knife in hand. He stood at the table beside his brother who held the box in both hands. The fires were cooling, forgotten on the forge. Betta put her knife away and hurried forward. The rivets of the box had been cut and the steel bands were pulled back, opening up like a strange flower with a square center. The lid was closed, but there was a line where the old steel had been cut nearly through, and it needed only a little force to break the final beads that held it.

Something sounded in her mind, like a voice or a song that resonated deeper than the deep voice of the mountain. It came from the box, and it sang in her blood. Betta forgot the forge and the dwarves; she forgot everything except the box and stretched out her hand toward it.

Kili caught her wrist. "Careful, it's hot," he said.

Betta said nothing; her eyes were on the box.

"Let her go."

Kili looked at his brother curiously, but he did as Fili asked.

Betta touched the box, tentatively at first, for she feared the heat, too, but there was no reason. The metal was hot, but not too hot to touch. The box seemed to grow large in her hand and the letters carved on the lid glowed with the light of fire. She took hold of the lid. The last beads of metal gave way and she lifted it.

There was no scent of air, no flash of light. Almost the moment the lid was off, Betta woke from her trance and it was only an ordinary box of metal in her hand. Whatever magic had been in it had gone out of it and was gone. She felt disappointed, but the box was not empty.

She turned it over and dropped the contents into her hand. Wrapped in squares of folded paper was a round, dark stone. It was large, but rested lightly on her palm. The size of a small duck egg, it was perfectly smooth and painted with translucent swirls as if it were made of glass. Fili took it, and he and his brother examined it. Betta turned her attention to the pages.

They were tattered at the edges, and worn in places where the stone had rubbed against them, but there were markings on them. She smoothed the papers and laid them out on the table. The writing was old, older than anything she had seen, but the letters were elf-letters and her father had taught her the language that was written in them. The four squares of paper had marks on the corners of each to show how they would lay, North, South, East and West. It was a map.

The dwarves had been right all along; there really was a treasure.

* * *

**I hope that wasn't too long for you ;-). Please let me know what you think.**

**-Paint**


	5. Chapter 5

A treasure map. Betta pushed a strand of hair behind her right ear. Her fingers touched the line of her scalp and she frowned. She recognized the style of the work on the page. She had seen something like it once before and would never forget…

"It's a pearl," Kili said. "But it can't be. It's too large, and it's purple."

"Purple?" Betta looked up.

Fili held up the pearl so that it caught a beam of sunlight from one of the shafts cut into the ceiling. The sun shone off the blue pearlescent surface of the stone, rippling like water. There was a depth to the pearl that was rich and wonderful; it's colors ranged from deep blue to purple to nearly black, and if had been set in silver on an elven crown, it couldn't have been more beautiful.

Kili stared in amazement. "It must be worth…"

"Not so much as _you_ believe," Fili told him. "Not enough to be a treasure in itself, but it would fetch a good price in an honest market." His words were restrained but there was a light in his eyes. He was thinking of all the ways that he could set this stone, in silver or on golden thread, to enhance its beauty. It wasn't a priceless treasure, but it was a thing of worth and value, and if there were more… Well, _that_ would be a treasure.

"What does it say?" he asked, looking at the pages Betta had laid out on the table.

She shook her head. "I need time to make it out. It's a map. It is definitely a map. I recognize these markings, but…" She frowned and squinted at a shape and symbol on the south east square of paper. "Fornost?" she said, not meaning to speak it aloud.

"Fornost?" Kili echoed. "That was once a city of Men, was it not?"

"It was," Betta said. "I learned my history in Gondor. My father would be ashamed if I did not know the ancient home of the Northern Kingdom. But Fornost was lost in the wars with Angmar and fell into ruin, nearly one thousand years ago."

"That hill is on most maps, anyway," Kili said. "I have not seen it, but they say that it is only a grassy hill now, though one littered with fallen towers and broken stone."

"That is Fornost," Betta said, putting her finger on the small mark on the page. "And this is a line of other hills, perhaps Ered Luin, perhaps Hithaeglir." She frowned and peered at the small letters. She had thought that she had the four squares arranged right, but now, she was not certain. The smoke was in her eyes and the old writing was faded.

She looked up and saw Fili was watching her intently. The pearl in his hand was proof that there could indeed be a treasure out there. He had every intention of holding her to the deal that they had made, but there was no hiding from his searching eyes that she was beginning to regret having made it.

"Well?" he said. "What do you say this is?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert in such things, but it would seem to be a, ah…"

"A treasure map?" Kili suggested, hopeful.

She sighed. "It would seem so."

Kili looked at her then at the pearl. He looked at his brother and let out a roaring laugh. "We're going on a treasure hunt!" he cried and pulled them both into his arms.

Betta was shocked by the embrace, too shocked to react. Fili, too, seemed caught by surprise, and surprised that she had been included. He was nearly as pleased with their luck as his brother, however, and he gave her a friendly pat on the arm before releasing himself from Kili's hold.

"Brother! We will have our adventure!" Kili laughed.

"We will need a plan, first," Fili said, taking up one of the pages. "There's more written here than a simple map. We'll need to know every word. We need warm clothes for the winter, supplies and food, and…"

"We'll have to tell Thorin."

Fili frowned at his brother, and Kili winced. He looked down at Betta, who was pretending not to notice she was still crammed tightly under his sweaty arm. Kili let her go, and Fili pulled him aside for a word. This time, they spoke together in the Common Tongue, and Betta strained her ears to listen.

"We have to tell Thorin," Kili insisted. "We can't just go running off into the wild without giving some explanation. He'll have the whole mountain after us."

"And what do you suggest we tell him? That we found a strange set of papers that _may_ be a map. And this map _may_ lead us to a treasure, but we won't know until this woman translates them. This _human _woman, who we've allowed into the mountain against his law."

"He doesn't need to know that part," Kili muttered. "What was your plan, then?"

Fili frowned. He didn't actually have a plan. For all that he had hoped for an adventure, he honestly hadn't believed that there would be anything useful in the box, and had put off making plans until it was opened.

They didn't know now, not for certain, that the pages would be useful in any way. Just because it was a map, didn't mean that it lead to treasure. And if the map was as old as Betta's tale suggested it might be, there was no guarantee that any treasure that it had once led to would still be there for them to find. The writing was nothing that Fili recognized, so they would need Betta to translate it, but he still had his doubts about the woman. It wasn't anything that he could put his finger on, but he wished that he had had more proof of her history before he had agreed to march out into the wild with her. Her story was long, but only a small part of it had been proven.

"I… will think of something," was all that he could say. He stared hard at the woman. Betta seemed focused on deciphering the pages, but it was obvious that she was listening to their talk. "I'll close up the forge. Be sure that the woman gets back to her inn without being seen, and then meet me in our room. We will speak with Thorin tonight, after we've had a chance to put our story together."

"And this?" Kili held up the pearl.

Fili took it. "Call it insurance," he said. "We've fulfilled our part of the bargain." He could see Betta watching him out of the corner of her eye. He made sure that she saw him tuck it into his pocket.


	6. Chapter 6

Kili led Betta down from the hills. She had put up quite the fuss when Fili refused to give her the pearl as well as the map, but Kili agreed with his brother: they did not know enough about her to let her carry both halves of their adventure away with her. The pearl was worth more than ten southern coins, but as Fili had said that it did not constitute a treasure, and their deal only covered a treasure _or_ ten coins if there was no treasure, Kili did not believe that Fili would refuse to give up the pearl if Betta demanded it... but he did not know for certain. Kili was eager for an adventure, and a treasure that would make Thorin proud, but Fili was becoming nearly obsessed with the idea. He could see it in his brother's eyes, and it worried him.

Kili led the woman down the path, keeping half an eye on the hills above and below to be sure that no dwarf saw them leaving the mountain. He walked quickly and she had to hurry to keep up with him. The wind was colder than it had been that morning, or it felt colder after the heat of the forge. He saw the woman pull her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

"If you mean to travel north in winter, you'd best grow a thicker skin," he muttered.

Betta said nothing.

At the bottom of the hill, Kili led her around a flat boulder and into a narrow cut in the wall. The passage would be next to impossible to find without a guide, and it could be easily closed up in a siege, but it was also a useful exit, or entrance, if one did not wish to be seen.

The wall was deeper here, and taller, where it would be harder to defend; the stones were laid ten feet thick. In the passage the light of the overcast sky was dim and the shadows dark. Kili entered but stopped just before leaving it and turned back to the woman. Betta had been thinking hard on her own thoughts, and he stopped so suddenly that she walked into him. She looked up, startled, and her eyes were wide as she backed away. She saw that he wore his sword and several knives. Until then, she had thought him mostly a cheerful and curious dwarf, protective of his brother but no threat; in this tight passage, she was reminded that he could be dangerous, too.

Kili saw her reach her hand behind her back, and he knew that she carried her knife there. He set his hand on his sword hilt but did not draw. "Why did you come here?" he asked. His body blocked the mouth of the passage and the only escape was back inside the wall, which was no escape.

"For the reason that I told you: to find a dwarf with the skill to open a box." The box was in her pocket now although it had little purpose left but to weight papers or hold tobacco leaves. "I came to this mountain because your brother invited me. I am in this passage waiting for you to give me leave to go."

"I don't believe your tale," Kili told her. "You did not walk all the way from Anduin to the western seas alone. No woman could or would do this."

"And yet, I did."

He shook his head. "I do not think so."

"I do not care what you think of it," she said, "and I do not need you to believe me. You or your brother. Do you mean to say that you are afraid of me? You think that I need to lie because I am a strange and terrible danger that will murder you once we are alone in the wild?"

He frowned and then he burst out laughing. "You, a danger!" he laughed. "No, I am not afraid of you. But I do not trust you."

"Then tell your brother," she said. "He does not trust me either, though he would use me as a means to some secret end. Tell him that you do not trust me alone in the wild and then maybe he will abandon this notion of following me there."

"Following you?" Kili raised an eyebrow. "Then you mean to travel into Arnor, to cross the Hills of Evendim alone? And from there, to where? North to the frigid bay of ice, or into Forodwaith, past Carn Dum and the mountains of Angmar!" He shook his head. "No, you are a good liar, but a liar nonetheless. There is nothing I can say to dissuade my brother, but that is alright with me. I want an adventure, and if that means a two days' march east before you give up your foolish notion, then so be it."

"You seemed glad of the treasure hunt," she said. "Why so much caution now?"

Kili's laughter and his suspicion fell away, and he looked at her thoughtfully. He had called her a liar, but there was no lie in her eyes. "Because now we've come to the point," he said, "to stay or to go away to an uncertain end."

He stood still for a long moment, but it was not her that he saw in his mind's eye. He saw his uncle, who had told him and his brother uncounted times that they knew nothing of the world and the dangers it contained. At the time, Kili had laughed, thinking that he knew all he needed to know, but today he was learning new cares and cautions, and they had not even set out yet.

"It is something to think on," he said to himself. He shook his head and left the passage. Betta followed behind him in silence. They both had many things to think on.

.

Betta thought that he would leave her near the mountain and let her walk back to town on her own, but he did not. She thought that he would leave her at the edge of town, but he did not. He entered the town with her, walking beside her, an inch or two less in height but easily keeping up with her quick stride. They made such a strange pair that several men stopped what they were doing to look at them as they passed.

Kili did not care what looks he drew, but Betta did. The streets were bustling, and she took the first chance she could to leave the main road and follow the winding alleys to the inn. He followed her until she reached the back door and would have followed her inside to know which room was hers, but she stopped him.

"Did you have something more to say?" she asked.

"There are safer houses than this," he said, frowning at the battered boards and cracked windows of the establishment.

"The innkeeper is honest."

"Perhaps." He stared up at the inn. "How long will it take you to translate our map?"

"I do not know. A few days, at least, to translate the words. The map is very old. Many of the places marked on it will be lost or forgotten, and I do not know the lands of the north very well."

"Our people travel east and south, but we seldom go far north into the bitter winds if we can avoid it. There are orcs in the mountains of Angmar," he said, "but I will tell you what little I do know of those lands, if it will help you."

"I do not ask for help," Betta said.

"Asked for or not, you will have it, but I suggest that you hurry. If I know my brother, once he makes up his mind he will want to set out as soon as possible, the day after tomorrow or perhaps in two days."

"So soon as that? But we don't know how long will be the journey or how far the map will take us, into what lands we may wander…"

"Then it is good that we have an expert wanderer with us," Kili said. "For one who has travelled the wild lands of the south, crossed mountain and river and field, this should be nothing new to you. Add to that, two stout dwarves, and what more do we need?"

"Food and warm clothes come to mind," Betta muttered.

Kili pretended not to hear. "My brother and I will speak together tonight, and tomorrow we will send word to you of our plans. But for now, do not worry overmuch about your food and shelter. I expect that Fili has already taken thought for such things. Good day and good luck to you." He gave Betta one last, long look and shook his head, then he left.

Betta watched him go. She could only imagine what he thought of her, but she already knew that Fili considered her a necessary burden. There was no accounting for Dwarves, Betta decided. For her part, she was glad to let these dwarves worry about supplies and whatever else they would need. She didn't have the money for it.

She entered the inn, climbed the narrow stairs and returned to her rented room. There was no desk, only a stool and a cot. She sat cross-legged on the floor with the stool for a table so that the pages she laid out on it were close to her eyes and she could see the faded writing. She was hungry, but more than that, she was desperate to know what was written on the pages, the answers for which she had sought so long.

The day passed and the night came on. Betta left her work only long enough to go down for food and a candle. She sat up long into the night, struggling through the translation. The language was older than what her father had taught her, but it was also kin to some of the old dialects in Gondor. As Betta worked, much that was written there was revealed to her. And there were some things that she would rather never have learned, and more that she knew she could not reveal to the dwarves, not yet. Perhaps not ever.

When the sun rose on the next morning and peered through her window, it found Betta curled up on the floor fast asleep.

.

After leaving Betta at the inn, Kili returned to the mountain, but he did not go immediately to meet his brother. Instead, he climbed a high pass to a ledge half a mile above the hill. The Gates of the Blue Mountains were grand enough, but the Dwarves had dwelt there for only one hundred and fifty years, little more than half a lifespan in the long years of their kind. They had little time for works of beauty in their own home. Their hands were needed to scratch out a living in iron and blacksmithing, work that Fili scorned when their uncle was not there to hear him.

The halls of Ered Luin were little more than widened caves and half-built passages. Kili had practically been born in those caves and never knew the proud halls of his forefathers, although he had heard Thorin's description of Erebor, its gold and grandeur, so many times that he could see it in his waking mind. He wondered how often Thorin saw it, in waking or in dreams.

Thorin meant to retake the mountain. There was no question in Kili's mind that the mountain, the dragon and the treasure occupied nearly all of his uncle's thoughts, especially when he was laboring in the forge, making iron tools for lesser men. It was exciting to think of crossing river and mountain to Erebor, fighting goblins along the way to defeat a dragon and win fame and gold. Kili had dreamed of such adventures all his short life, but he knew that Fili was less certain. His brother would do anything for their uncle, but he was more careful and less quick to draw his weapon than Kili. It was not the gold or even the adventure that drew Fili on. It was the honor of following their uncle.

From the cliff, he could see across the hills and plain to the western edge of the land of the Halflings. He strained his eyes beyond those too green hills to the horizon. It was impossible to see the Misty Mountains from where he stood, but he could pretend that the hazy line at the edge of sight were the daunting peaks of Barazinbar, Zirakzigil, and Bundushathur. Beyond them lay Erebor; it may as well have been on the other side of the world. Only the Iron Hills lay beyond it, and if the Dwarves of Durin had gone farther east than Rhun, Kili had not heard of it.

The Dwarves had lost many homes through the long, dark years. The woman, Betta, had lost her home, so she claimed, to the evils of the eastern lands and the wild men of the south. In Gondor, there was war in plenty to drive her people west; Kili could not name their cities or the battles they had fought the way he could those of the Dwarves, but even to Eriador, stories came of strife and struggle on the southern coasts.

He had told Betta that he did not believe that she had travelled as far as she claimed, but why not? Hadn't Thorin come from Erebor, through the blood and fire of Azanulbizar, until he came finally to these mountains and sought to build a land for them by the sea? Betta had met Kili's accusations with a steady gaze. If she had told the truth, then he had done her a great wrong.

The horizon gave him no answers, and Fili would be waiting. Kili climbed down from the cliff and entered the mountain. Betta said that Fili doubted her as well. Had his brother demanded answers of her? And had he been satisfied with the ones she gave? However his brother decided, Kili would be satisfied. Fili had often been called the wiser of the two brothers, but Kili knew that he had always been the more handsome.

* * *

**Coming soon... Thorin!**


	7. Chapter 7

Fili was waiting in their room, pacing the floor and passing the pearl from hand to hand as he thought. When Kili entered, he stopped and turned.

"You were long gone, brother," he said.

"It is a long walk to the town and back again," Kili said. "I thought it good to learn where Betta stays so that we may send for her… once we've decided on our course."

Fili nodded. "Decided. Yes," he said, scratching at his bearded chin. "Now we've come to the point. We've already pledged to go with the woman, and we cannot break our given word." He had been struggling to come up with the best way to explain this to Thorin; a Dwarf's honor was as dear to him as his kin, yet there was a chance that Thorin would not hold a hand-shake deal with a strange, human woman very highly.

"I do not think that she would hold us to our word, if it came to that," Kili said.

"You don't?"

Kili sat down on the edge of his cot. "She seemed eager to have us gone," he said. "I don't know what you said to anger her, but it did. She bid me tell you that I do not trust her, and that you do not trust her, and that she believes that you are using her. She would rather follow her map alone."

"And so, she does not trust us," Fili said, laughing and shaking his head. "It is good that I kept this, then." He held up the pearl. Kili frowned at the sea-jewel, a pretty thing that seemed more trouble than it was worth.

"That may be a part of her anger, as well," Kili said quietly.

His brother did not hear him. "Do you truly not trust her, Kili, as she says?" Fili asked.

Kili shrugged his shoulders. "I did not when I left her, but I have thought long on it…"

"That is not your strongest skill," Fili said, smiling.

"It is a wonder that Thorin thinks that you are the diplomat between us," Kili said. "But you interrupt me. I did not trust Betta this morning, but I find that I begin to trust her now, at least more than I did before. That pearl you hold would seem to prove her tale."

Fili sat down on his cot across from his brother. "You are still eager for this journey, then?"

"We've a map and a treasure to find, what Dwarf would turn down such an offer?"

"Indeed," Fili said, "what Dwarf would." He frowned down at the pearl in his hand. It seemed to glow with a dark light of its own. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I do not trust the woman, but I do not mistrust her either. Like you, I begin to find myself believing her absurd story, and now all that need be decided is how to break the news to Thorin. This was all done to convince him, after all."

Fili stared down at his hands, thinking hard on it. Kili waited, but his brother was silent. He did not understand Fili's reluctance; if all they asked was to ride out to Evendim and back again, Thorin would hardly refuse them. With a map and treasure, Kili thought their path was very clear.

"There is something else that is bothering you, brother," he said. "Out with it. Are you still worried about playing this trick on our uncle? Are _you_ still eager to go?"

"I am determined to go," Fili said. "I am only thinking how best to bring it up to Thorin. A year ago, he may not have stopped us from riding to Hithaeglir if we'd asked, but now is not a year ago. He has kept very close since he began brooding and making his plans. He will not be so quick to have us ride into the wild with a stranger.

"Our given word to the woman should play to his honor, and this is proof enough of a treasure," he said, holding up the pearl, "so that should answer any question he has about profit. He will object to the danger of it, for he still thinks that we are children." He sighed. "If our mother were here to speak to him on our behalf…"

Kili pursed his lips and looked away. Fili regretted voicing his thoughts aloud. Both brothers had difficulty speaking even to each other of their mother. Her passing was a grief to them and especially to Thorin, her brother, and the wound of her death was slow to heal.

"Do you really think that he will try to take Erebor?" Kili asked. "It would take an army of Dwarves to even attempt the dragon."

"Balin does not think that an army will come," Fili said, "but our uncle will try to convince them."

"If Dain refuses, then we need to be there! Thorin will need all the _loyal_ dwarves he can get. He will need his family to stand with him." Kili stood up again and crossed the room. He took an arrow from his quiver that hung on the wall and tested the sight of it. "When will we speak with our uncle?" he asked. "It must be soon."

Before Fili could reply, there was a knock on the door of their room. An older dwarf, Fror son of Farin, had come with a message from Thorin, summoning them to his hall. The brothers were glad that they had made up their minds; all that was left to do now was to convince their uncle to give the quest his blessing. Kili was optimistic, but Fili believed that convincing Thorin would be the most difficult part of their adventure.

.

Thorin's hall was a great cavern of stone, carved with figures and proud pillars. It was the most complete room in the entire mountain, but it was seldom used for anything grander than a family feast; Thorin was more often at work in the forge side by side with his folk than seated in honor in the great room. Today, the hall was dark and empty, filled with only the dispossessed king and a table full of books, maps and scrolls. A great fireplace stood against the western wall, and a fire had been built to roaring heat, but it did little to cheer the room.

Thorin was bent over his papers, deep in thought, but when his nephews arrived, he left the table and met them in the center of the long hall. Fili and Kili stood uncomfortably to one side while their uncle rested his hand on the mantel of the fireplace, his eyes staring deep into the blaze.

After a few moments, he spoke. "Balin has left us and gone east for a time," he said. "Oin has gone with him, but they will return before the winter is through. We will have much to speak of then, I and those who are loyal to me."

"And us, uncle," Kili said.

Thorin looked up. "You? What have you to say?"

Kili opened his mouth, but Fili gave his brother a sharp look. "I spoke with Balin before he left," Fili admitted. "He said that there is something growing on your mind. Kili and I have seen it as well."

Thorin turned to face his nephews, frowning down at them. He always seemed to be able to make them each feel like young Dwarf boys who'd been caught raiding the sweets basket. "You've been putting your long nose where it doesn't belong," Thorin said. And then he sighed. "But you are right. My thoughts have been dark in recent days." He turned back to the fire.

Kili glanced at his brother, but Fili's look was enough to keep him silent. For now.

"You are both young, but you are my sister-sons, and you have a right to know," Thorin said finally. "I stopped at an inn at Bree on my return from the east. I had words with a particular person who has taken an interest in our family. It was Tharkun who first spoke aloud that which was already in my heart, that a time is coming when we shall retake our ancient home."

Thorin's eyes were alight as he spoke, blazing with a fire as hot as the one on the hearth. "Tharkun, Mithrandir as the Elves call him, promised to come to me when his business elsewhere was done, and then we would speak further on this matter. I hope that Balin will return, and that Gloin should be here as well when he comes. I will need every Dwarf that I can trust for I feel that the time is ripe. If Dain will not be persuaded, then I will go to Erebor alone."

"Not alone," Fili said. "We mean to go with you, uncle."

Thorin was staring into the fire again and it took a moment for him to hear his nephew's words. "You go?" he said, thinking it a joke. He saw Fili's face and Kili's as well, and he laughed. "My lads, you are just the balm for my sore heart. I thank you, but this is not a venture for the young. You know nothing of the world. You do not know what you ask."

"We do," Kili said. "We'll prove it to you!"

Thorin shook his head. Kili looked at Fili; if his brother did not speak up now, than he meant to. Fili knew better than to let Kili try to explain their intentions. He cleared his throat. "Uncle, we have a, ah… we've had an offer… a business proposition of sorts…"

"Of what sort?" Thorin asked absently. He had turned his back and walked back to his table. Fili followed him and now saw that the books were old histories and the papers were maps of Erebor and the lands between, from Ered Luin to the great eastern inland Sea of Rhun.

"A, ah… treasure hunt." Fili felt the absurdity of it even as he said the words.

Thorin looked up. His expression was blank, but Fili knew his uncle well enough to see the doubt in his eyes. Fili took a deep breath and explained. He told his uncle of the woman and her box. He did not say that they had brought Betta into the mountain for the opening of it, but he described the contents, the map and the pearl which he produced as evidence to the truth of it. He told what little Betta had told him, and the less that he knew himself of the ancient wars of Men with Angmar. Thorin took the pearl and looked at it in the light of the fire as his nephew spoke. He had seen the treasure of Erebor and was not so easily impressed by a single sea jewel, no matter how large or of what color.

"We know that it is unlikely that such a treasure yet exists," Fili said finally. "But it may be that some forgotten people left behind their forgotten wealth when they fled the coming of war. At least, we promised the woman that we would help her seek her family's past."

"She has lost much," Kili added quietly.

Thorin frowned and shook his head. "You promised this woman that you would salvage the pocket change of her long dead family? That seems a sorry sort of errand for an heir of Durin."

"You have denied us hope of a more noble quest," Fili reminded him.

"Ha! So, you would twist your uncle's words to use against him!" Thorin cried. "And where will your treasure hunt take you, pray? What dangers will you face there? Have you given thought to that?"

"We won't go far from the mountain," Kili protested. "A few leagues north, perhaps, into the east of the Hills of Evendim, no farther. Betta is working on translating the map…"

"Betta? A fine name that is, very noble," Thorin laughed. "Could you not even find a Dwarf woman to follow out into the wild? Give your ageing uncle something to hope for!" He sat down with a sigh. "You would go north, you say? That is no great feat. There is little there but rock and stone and cold weather. Even the orcs do not travel far into Arnor beyond the shelter of their mountains, and the barrow wrights of men are of little concern to us."

He turned over a page on the table, his eyes returning to his maps again. "Fine, then," he said at last. "Go to your treasure hunt with your human woman, and by Durin I hope that you learn some lessons from it!"

"If we do this, you will take us with you?" Kili asked. "To Erebor?"

Thorin shook his head, but said, "Should you succeed in this foolishness and return with more than empty hands and cold noses, I will consider the matter again. If not, then it is closed and I will hear nothing more of it.

Thorin sat down and scratched his beard thoughtfully. He rolled the pearl between his thumb and forefinger. "This month is half spent, and Balin will return before the next is through. It is then that I expect Tharkun will arrive, though his plans are seldom known to any but himself, and even there I am not certain. Yes, I will allow you to go on this pleasure march of yours if it will keep you from darkening my doorways and listening at keyholes."

At this, Thorin looked up from under his brow at Fili, but his eyes were sparkling.

"Thank you, uncle," Fili said.

"Thank you," Kili echoed. "We will not return empty handed."

Thorin stood up and handed the pearl back to Fili. He grasped his arm. "Your mother would be proud of the Dwarves you have become," he told them. "I am proud. If there is indeed a treasure in those hills, I have no doubt that the two of you will dig it up."

They spoke a few words more, but Thorin's mind was on his maps, and soon his nephews left him. The conversation had gone much better than Fili had hoped for. They had their uncle's blessing and more hope that Thorin would let them join him in the quest for Erebor. However, they also had less time than Fili would have wanted. They had, at most, eight weeks to travel the hundred or more leagues from the mountain to the icy plains between Emyn Uial and Forochel, and they did not even know to where in that great space they would be going. They would need ponies, certainly, and warm clothing and food stuff. Kili was already making plans for adventure, but Fili was calculating the supplies that they might bring.

"Ah, and I forgot to mention, Betta claims she has nothing warm enough for the journey. She wants time, a few days at least, to prepare," Kili said as they walked through the mountain back to their room.

"We cannot wait a few days," Fili said. "In a few days, Thorin may change his mind. No, we need to leave as soon as things can be made ready. Before the sun sets tomorrow, we should be gone from Ered Luin."

* * *

**So ends, Chapter 7: In Which I Tweak the Canon. I had to stretch the timeline a little, but it has always seemed strange to me how quickly Quest for Erebor progresses as a setup for The Hobbit when FoTR, which serves a similar purpose (setting up for the War of the Ring), seems to drag with months and even years of inaction. In any case, I apologize for the changes, but I couldn't think of any other way to give our dwarves enough time to have a proper adventure.**

**If you've made it this far, thank you! You're awesome!**

**-Paint**


	8. Chapter 8

Betta slept fitfully and dreamed dark dreams, but when a knock woke her in the early hours of the morning, she could not remember them. The sky was light, but it was early. She sat up, and her bones protested the treatment; the floor was less comfortable than the grassy ground she usually slept on, and her arm was no proper pillow.

The knock came again, and she pulled herself to her feet. Her knife was strapped to her back where it had cut a divot in her spine. She answered the knock before it could come again.

"Yes?"

A young girl, one of the kitchen maids, stood in the hall. Her cheeks were red from laughter and she grinned boldly at Betta who was not nearly so awake as the girl. "You're wanted downstairs, ma'am," she said, giggling.

"Wanted?" Betta wasn't used to being wanted anywhere, but to be summoned like this, in the inn of a town where she was a stranger, was something new to her. "Who wants me?" she asked.

"Dwarves," the girl said. "Pretty dwarves, ma'am." The girl couldn't be more than twelve, but her smile was older than that.

Betta remembered that she wasn't quite a stranger here anymore. "_Two_ pretty dwarves?" she asked.

The girl nodded.

"Then they can wait 'til I've washed and eaten. Even a dog won't leave his kennel until he's had breakfast."

"Shall I tell them you've said so, ma'am?"

"No!" Betta shook her head. "I'll go down. I need food in any case. Tell them I am coming."

"Yes, ma'am." The girl hurried back down the stairs.

Betta closed the door, but she did not hurry. She splashed cold water over her face and hands to wake herself. She put away the candle and dumped what was left of yesterday's dinner out the window into the alley behind the inn. For a moment, she considered climbing out after it and escaping, but she did not.

It was a foolish thought, and she had wanted the box opened and the answers found for so long that she wondered at herself for having it. But she hadn't planned on bringing dwarves with her. It was beginning to feel as if they were the ones bringing her with them. If it weren't for Fili's determination, and his decision to keep the pearl in his own pocket, Betta's courage might have failed her. She might have turned back from the journey ahead.

The history that she had inherited with the box was dark, and it took more from her than it gave. Always, the answers to important questions were like rabbits: they bred more questions.

.

Fili and Kili were waiting for Betta when she came down to the common room. They kept to themselves on one side of the large space full of tables and stools. The long bar against the far wall was empty. In the evenings, the common room was bustling with locals and miners and traders, all sharing news and telling tales, but Betta had never gone down for it. She sat above, listening to the noise through the floorboards.

It was early in the morning, but late enough that those with work to do were off doing it. A pair of old men sat in a sunny corner near the door playing at a game of stones. A third man, the fat night-watchman who more often slept on the floor of a pub than in his own home was passed out on a bench in the corner, still sleeping off his night. Betta envied him that he had been left in his bed. She was greeted by the dwarves as she entered, and they were far more cheerful than she was.

"There she is, the guide for our great quest!"

Fili stepped forward to meet her. Their talk with Thorin had gone so well that even he had woken in a good mood that morning, but Kili had warned him that Betta would not want to set out so soon. As Thorin Oakenshield's heir, Fili was not used to his will being denied. There were not many dwarves who would stand against him when he set his mind to do a thing, unless it were that they stood with Thorin on the other side. Even Kili usually followed him without question, and Kili was more often going his own way into trouble than following anyone else.

The woman was another story. Fili might have left her behind if he did not need her to read the map they were following. It went against his grain to humor anyone, but humor her he must if he wanted to convince her to go with them on this quest. It had been Kili's idea to come to the inn personally to tell her what they had planned.

"We heard that you have not broken your fast," Fili said. "Come, we've ordered food." He led her to a table in an isolated corner away from the old men and the sleeping one. "How was your sleep?"

Betta was suspicious of his change in mood, but not so much that she did not accept the food when it was brought. There was bread and butter, but also a bowl of the inn's infamous mash that the innkeeper called porridge. The miners who ate it called it a name that Betta would blush to say aloud.

Fili was impatient, and it did not take long for him to forget that he was there to convince her and not to order her. He waited only long enough for her to eat a bite before speaking. "Have you translated the map?" he asked her. "Do you know in which direction our path lies?"

"North," she said. "The same direction as it lay yesterday, and the day before. I spent all the night awake and reading the pages. I told you, it cannot be done in a day!"

"We do not need the whole map redrawn for us," he said, "only the first stage."

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Why are you not eager to go?" Fili asked.

Kili put a hand on his brother's shoulder; he knew that Fili was impatient, and sometimes he spoke rashly when he was crossed. Kili had wanted to go alone to deliver their message to Betta, without his brother. He knew that he was considered handsome by the standards of Men, even if most Dwarf women thought his beard was too thin. But Fili had insisted on coming with him, and now his brother was on the verge of starting a fight that no one would win.

"We must leave now if we are to have any hope to avoid the bitter cold of winter," Kili explained.

"Today, or in two days, it will still be cold," Betta said.

"We mean to leave today," Fili said. "The better we know our path, the better we can prepare. My brother and I have already sent for a number of things that we will need. Kili says that you will need warm clothing. And better boots, from the look of things." He frowned down at her heavy shoes, worn from long travel. "How did you manage to cross the hard ground of Enedwaith in those?"

"Well enough," she said. "I will buy what I need for myself. And I need no other boots."

"As you wish. But you had only ten silver coins to pay to the dwarves who opened your box. If you have come into some other money, that is good luck, indeed."

"Not all of us have the wealth of a mountain at our backs," Betta muttered.

"Look at it this way," Kili said, interrupting his brother again. "We are purchasing what supplies we will need. You may accept the help or not, as you wish."

"And if there is no treasure?" Betta asked. "You mean to say that you won't demand repayment then? As your brother delights in reminding me, I have little money to spend in that way."

Fili frowned, but again, it was Kili who spoke. "No. No repayment, and no boots, either," he said, with a look at his brother. "You know best what you need after your long walk from Anduin, but we know that we will need food stuff and clothing for winter, all of us. The more that we know of our path before we begin, the better we can prepare for it."

Fili looked at his brother in surprise. It wasn't often that Kili thought farther ahead than his next meal, but he had known better than Fili how to convince Betta. Already her anger had softened, and she looked thoughtful.

"I do not know the end of the path, not yet," she said, "but I know that we will need to go east and north, over the northern Hills of Evendim, I think, but not through them. And then… farther north, I believe, but the landmarks there are beyond my knowledge. I do not know how far."

"Then we will follow my path," Fili said. He looked at Kili, who shrugged. They had argued that morning: Fili wishing to go his own way from the start while Kili thought that they should consult the map first. "There is a ford across the Lhun that is three days ride east of here. You want more time, and you will have it, but I will have a clearer path to follow once we reach the eastern shore. I refuse to wander the frozen wastes without direction. Make your preparations."

Fili stood up to go. "At midday, my brother and I will wait for you on the road to the Gates. From there, we ride east and on to seek your treasure."

Betta nodded, and the dwarves left, but her thoughts were on packs and supplies, and measuring the long leagues ahead. Those empty hills were more dangerous than the miles of Rohan or Dunland where homes were few and unwelcoming, but still there were homes.


	9. Chapter 9

Whatever the dwarves might have promised, Betta was not willing to leave all the preparations to them. She had little money, but what she could spare, she spent on food, a warmer cloak and an extra blanket for her pack. She was a child of the southern coasts and when she thought of cold weather, all she knew was the bitter wind that sometimes came from east of the Mountains of Shadow. Her memory of snow was as a glimmer of white on the mountain tops. Foodstuff she knew well, however, and she packed what would last longest and yet be light to carry. In the south, she could hunt, even in barren Enedwaith; but in the cold lands between Emyn Uial and frozen Forochel, who knew?

In a way, she was glad to be leaving so soon, even if the wind blew cold and the sky was overcast and pale. She would not admit it to the dwarves, but for all the doubts of her mind, her heart was glad to be travelling again, and to have an end in sight.

All morning, the creeping exhaustion reminded her that she had not slept well or long that night. Betta ate her bread at midday as she walked the road to the Gates carrying her too-heavy pack that would, too soon, become too light as they journeyed north. She was late arriving and found Fili and Kili already mounted on ponies with their bags ready. A third animal stood nearby, its reins held by an elderly dwarf.

"Fror, son of Farin, at your service," he said. He bowed and offered her the reins.

"At yours," Betta said. "Must we ride?"

Fili looked down at her. "Perhaps you would prefer to carry your weight in baggage, but I would far rather hire a beast for the burden. We will travel farther and faster with ponies."

Betta arranged her pack on the pony and then, reluctantly, she climbed on. When her family dwelt briefly in Rohan, she had learned to ride, but not willingly, and the children of the horse people had laughed to see her bumping along, holding the horn with white knuckles. No matter how they tightened the stirrups, her feet were forever falling free; no matter how gentle a horse they put her on, she always seemed to come away with a bruised bottom.

Fror helped Betta with her packs and held the pony while she mounted, then he went to Fili's side. With his hand on the bridle, he looked up at him. "Your uncle bid me ask, are you certain you will not turn back from this foolish errand?"

"I have given my word," Fili said, "and our uncle knows why we cannot turn back now."

"No one has ever doubted your stubbornness, young one," Fror said. "But you may turn back at any time without dishonor."

"Does my uncle order me to stay?"

Fror sighed and shook his head. "No."

"Then we go on. I know that my brother would never forgive me if I took away his chance for adventure."

"You have always followed your own will," Fror said. "But take care. The northern lands have grown dangerous in recent years. It may be that you will find an orc or two in your way."

Kili grinned. "Then we will teach them to fear dwarves," he said, laughing.

Fror did not laugh. The old dwarf shook his head but let go of the pony and stepped away. "Good journey to you both and take care. Return safe to your uncle."

"We will," Fili said. "Are you ready?"

He had turned to Betta. She had finally managed to arrange herself on the pony and sat stiffly, gripping the reins. "I think that it is foolish not to wait for another day," she said, "but if you will go, then I suppose I must be ready to go also."

Fili turned his pony east and set off at a trot. Kili bowed low to Fror then rode after him. A moment later, Betta's pony followed more of its own accord than from any order she had given it. Fror laughed to see her ride away, but he was anxious and looked darkly on the young brothers leaving the mountain when they knew that Thorin had grown strange in recent weeks.

.

Fili knew the land for many leagues around the Dwarf Home of Ered Luin, and they had started their journey late enough in the day that he hoped to ride only to the next trading town before the sun set. It was not a large and bustling town, like the one that they had left; it was little more than a collection of store houses, sheds and a large, often unoccupied inn at the center of sparse farm lands.

Few men of any kind lived there permanently, but many of the goods that came up from the south passed through their hands before going on to the mountains or to the scattered villages and farms farther north. Nearly everything that would come down from the north to be floated south on the Lhun stopped and was warehoused there for a time. Fili made for the town, because he knew that its inn was the last before they entered the empty lands between the mountains and the river. And, after the river, there would be more empty lands.

Fili and Kili spoke cheerfully together as they rode. They were glad to be finally away from the mountain and on their own. Even Fili had relaxed once they were out from under its shadow, and he began to feel the excitement of starting on an adventure. He laughed with his brother and only once looked over his shoulder to be sure that Betta still followed a few yards behind them. The brothers were glad and did not bother to speak quietly; Kili would not have even if Fili had tried.

"Cousin Fror was not pleased to see us go," Fili commented.

"He is jealous," Kili said. "He does not want us to hoard all the adventure for ourselves. The old dwarf will never leave that mountain, and he speaks only doom and gloom in any case."

"It was strange, though," Fili said, thoughtfully. "I had expected our uncle to come out himself. He should know that if anyone could hope to change your mind, brother, it would be him. No clouds of Fror's making will darken your day."

"Those clouds might," Kili said, nodding ahead of them. "Does that look like rain to you?"

"Winter rain… That is no good way to start an adventure."

"But no more than I would expect," Betta muttered.

Fili turned around in his seat. "What do you say?" he asked.

"Do many of your family dwell in Ered Luin?" she asked. She had not realized that her pony had trotted so close to the others that they would hear her complain.

"Not many," Kili said, "at least, not many of our near relations. Our uncle, and our cousin Fror, who you met. Cousin Gror…"

"Don't forget cousin Nar," Fili added.

Kili laughed. "I have tried but she does not make it easy."

"And your parents?" Betta asked. "Where does your father dwell? Or your mother? You do not mention her."

Kili's laughter died, and he urged his pony faster. Fili watched him put distance between them and sighed. Betta frowned, not knowing what she had said wrong.

"Our mother is dead," Fili told her. "She died not yet five years ago. He was her favorite." He watched his brother, seeing the way his shoulders hung heavy and his head was bowed. Kili had been too old to cry for their mother, but sometimes Fili wondered if it wouldn't have done him some good.

"I thought that dwarves lived a long span of years," Betta said. "Was she young?"

Fili nodded. "Quite young. Only one hundred and seventy-six years she walked the stony roads of Middle Earth. It was a blow, especially to our uncle. She was his only sister and a darling to him and his brother."

"His brother? Does he also live with…?"

"Frerin was killed at the battle of Azanulbizar, many years ago. He was a Burned Dwarf." Fili held his head up proudly, but Betta asked, "What is a burned dwarf?"

Fili frowned at her and spurred his pony on to catch up to his brother. The day was getting colder, and he had had enough of talk.


	10. Chapter 10

Fili would have ridden them harder on that first day and arrived at the inn with daylight to spare, but Betta's poor horsemanship made that impossible. The sun was below the horizon before they came in sight of the town less than eight leagues from the dwarf home at Ered Luin.

The rain caught them still an hour from their destination, and they rode the last few miles with their heads down in the shivering cold. The hard ground of the mountain hills far above had already frozen and the falling water ran in rills and small streams down the slope to the road where it mingled with the bare earth into a thickening mud. Their ponies struggled through it but, in the end, the three riders were forced to dismount and lead the animals or risk losing themselves and their baggage to the mire.

Just outside the village, the road bent around what would have been swampy ground on a dry day. In the rain, it was a flooding mess, and it spread across the road. There was no choice but to wade through. Kili cursed and Fili grumbled. Betta said nothing; she did not want to open her mouth and taste the foul mud on her tongue.

By the time they arrived at the inn, they were all three of them covered up to their knees in slime. Their hands and arms and faces were smeared with it and their boots carried mud three inches thick at least. The ponies were painted with it as well, but they did not seem to mind.

The innkeeper was not happy to rent rooms to three so dirty travellers, but there was little business in the cold seasons, and he was happy to take their money and raised his prices accordingly. Fili had no choice but to hire the rooms: one large enough for two beds for the dwarves, and a second that was smaller but connected to the first with a door and had also a door of its own onto the landing. It had not been furnished as a guest room, but Fili ordered a cot set up for Betta so that she had privacy but was still near enough that he could keep an eye on her. He did not mistrust her, but he did not trust her or the men of this far outpost. They were not the men and dwarves of Ered Luin, however close their town may lay to the mountains.

Their ponies were wiped down and stabled behind the inn, but the three travellers carried their packs up the narrow stairs to their rooms. Betta looked around her closet. She had a window, at least, and she opened it wide. They all stank with mud. Fili had demanded water for washing, and they had only to sit silently smelling the stink of each other for a short while before two boys arrived bearing full buckets and two large pans. The water was cold, but it was clean and there was lots of it.

The dwarves washed their faces and hands, but spent more water cleaning their leather coats and boots, and their weapons than they did cleaning themselves. Betta took a pan and a bucket of water into her room and closed the door. The mud had soaked her clothes through to the skin and she was forced to undress and put on her spare pants and shirt; she washed herself before her clothes. They could suffer the mud better than she, and she knew that there would be water in plenty for laundry once they were in the wild where rivers and streams were free.

Worse than her clothes, however, was her hair. She wished that she had thought to cut it short before they left the mountain. The mud had soaked into it and then dried there in a solid mass and she had to sit with her head upside-down in the tub for a long while before it came free. As she sat, feeling foolish, she blamed the dwarves for all her troubles. If she had had her own way, they would have taken cover from the storm the moment it started, but Fili had been determined to reach the inn. If she had had her own way, she also would not have had to lead a skittish pony through a flood, either.

When most of the mud had been soaked away, she wrung out the water and took an old bone-handled comb from her pack. It was long work to comb out her tangles. In the next room, she could hear the dwarves talking together, and she went to the door to listen.

"A little rain and already you sulk like a wet blanket, brother," Fili said. "Dry off, and then tell me what you think."

"I think that only a fool travels north in winter. And we are two very handsome fools. What inn rents a room with neither fire nor food!?"

"There is food, only you must go down for it. If you are ashamed to show your matted beard down below, then I suppose that I must play the servant and bring it up to you. There's no reason to break into our stores before we must."

"There may be someone we can buy from here," Kili said. "You rushed us away in such a hurry, damned if we didn't miss something in the packing."

"You have no one to impress here, brother. Comb your beard with your fingers, if you must, but I will not listen to you complain all night."

Betta heard heavy footsteps cross the room and then a door open. It closed, and she guessed that Fili had gone down to find something for dinner. She hoped that he would remember her when he brought it up, but if he didn't, then she would break into her "stores" as he put it rather than go down herself. She had packed plenty, and one could usually find food in the wilderness, though probably nothing fit for dwarf royalty.

She finished combing her hair and tied it in a knot on top of her head, out of the way until she could braid it properly. She took what was left of the clean water and a cloth and lay her cloak and coat out on the floor to wipe off as much mud as she could. There was a knock on the door between their rooms and, without waiting for her answer, Kili entered.

"Do you bring a…?" He stopped short in surprise.

Betta held her knife in her hand, ready to fight, but she saw that he had no weapons. She lowered her arm. Kili stood in the doorway, his short stature highlighted by the man-sized frame, looking more than a little like a drowned rat in his damp clothes. His hair hung limp about his ears, and his beard was ragged and still dirty. The mud had done more than stink. It had stuck as well. She tried not to laugh at his sullen expression.

Kili frowned and ran his fingers through his beard, trying unsuccessfully to smooth it. Betta took pity on him, and she took out her comb from her pack again. "I know that dwarves are proud of their beards, but if they are vain as well, shouldn't they carry their own combs?" she said.

"It was forgotten in the packing," he muttered.

She stepped closer to him and held out the comb, but he did not take it. He was staring at her, or to one side of her. "What is this?" he said. "There is a mark there." He reached out his hand toward her right temple.

She stepped back and raised her knife.

He put up his hands. "Perhaps the mud has stained your skin," he said. "What is that mark?"

"Do I ask a history of every scrape and scar on your body?" she said angrily. She loosened her hair and pulled it down to cover her ears again.

"I meant no offense. I apologize," Kili said, but he was looking at her suspiciously again, as he had when the stood together in the passage of the great wall before Ered Luin. "Fili will return soon with food for our evening meal. You are welcome to eat with us." He nodded to the comb in her hand. "Will you lend it to me still, or would you force me to wear a bedraggled beard as punishment for asking a question?"

Betta handed him the comb. "We are all in short temper tonight," she said. "I hope that it is not an omen for the journey to come."

Kili agreed. "I will knock when Fili returns."

He returned to his room, and Betta closed the door behind him. At the bottom of her pack, she kept a kept a few careful treasures. A small circle of polished silver that had been as a mirror to her mother was wrapped in cloth. Beside it was a steel razor that had belonged to father. Both were folded into her spare clothes to protect them from the bumps of long travel, and she took out the mirror now to look at the scalp of her right temple.

Sure enough, when she combed back her hair, the lines revealed the edges of a mark on her skin that should have been hidden. The stress and hunger of her long travels had thinned her hair, and it had been long since anyone had stood close enough to see it on her. The dwarves had keener sight than most, and Kili's eyes were sharp even for a dwarf. As she let down her hair again to cover the mark, she was glad that she had not cut it off. She reminded herself that she was no longer travelling alone. She would need to keep her distance and be more careful in the future.

If it had been Fili, and not the younger Kili, she would never have gotten away with it.

.

Kili said nothing to Fili when he returned. He did not know what he had seen, or that he had seen anything. He felt questions returning with his old suspicions. Who was the woman really? Could they trust the account she gave of her own history? Certainly, Kili would not have liked to be questioned on his every scar, and there were many. He knew dwarves that had tattooed their skin, and the stories told in ink were very personal. Thorin's cousin Dwalin had many patterns drawn across his bald head, and more scars on his arms. A dwarf who made light of Dwalin's tattoos would soon learn the value of holding his tongue.

In any case, it was more likely that Kili's eyes had been mistaken, and that the mark was only a new scar, still fresh and not yet faded. He would have thought that he had seen nothing at all, except that Betta was so quick to anger and to cover herself. Fili returned, and Kili said nothing. He did not need to give his brother yet another reason to cause tension in their small group.

The food at the inn was about as appetizing as the mud that they had swam through to get to it, but they ate it anyway. Kili knocked on Betta's door as he had promised, but did not open it uninvited. She joined them for the evening meal, and her hair was braided down her back with a thick lock behind each ear that hid any chance he might have had to catch a glimpse of the mark again.

They ate in silence. Fili was in a sour mood, still feeling the grime of the swamp on his skin, and Kili felt uncomfortable between the silence of the woman and the scowl of his brother. Betta ate quickly and left them again only speaking to wish them a good-night. She closed the door between their two rooms.

As soon as she had gone, Fili sat back and kicked off his boots. "Your pet woman was quiet tonight, brother," he said.

"She is not _my_ woman," Kili said. "And she is no pet. I thought that you were warming up to her. You two seemed very friendly during the ride, whispering together all the secrets of our family lineage."

Fili stared at him in surprise, and then he shook his head. "I do not wish to argue with you, little brother," he said. He lay down on the rock-hard mat that the innkeeper had the gall to call a bed. "Perhaps I am being ungenerous, but is it too much to ask that the excitement of an adventure last longer than a single day before misery and cold rain have me wishing for home?"

"At least it was only a pool of mud, and not a river," Kili said. "We might have lost all our baggage as well as come out soaking and stinking." He saw his brother smile and was glad. "In any case, there will be more than enough nights for you to be homesick, brother. For now, be glad that we have a roof to shelter under. And comb your beard." He tossed Betta's comb to his brother.

Fili caught it, looked at it and then gave Kili a puzzled look. "This is not yours," he said.

Kili shrugged. "Sometimes it is not so bad to bring a woman along," he explained. "Probably she brought a mirror and scent for her skin as well."

"She certainly smells better than you, dear brother," Fili said, but he combed out his beard and hair and braided it. When he was finished, he felt more like himself again. "We shall see what the new dawn brings us."

Kili blew out the lamp and they lay down for the night. In the next room, Betta was already fast asleep in her bed with a knife under her pillow.

.

The long leagues of riding were enough to wear out even two young dwarves. Kili fell almost immediately to sleep, and Fili lay awake only long enough to hear his brother snoring soundly before he, too, drifted off. They were sleeping deeply in the midnight hour when the door to their room was unlocked and slowly opened. Two men entered with cloth tied around their shoes so that they did not make a sound. They were not dwarves, but in height they were not much taller. Their shoulders were broad and their arms thick, used to heavy labor but not eager for it. These were men who had spent their lives finding faster ways to earn their bread than through honesty and hard work.

The largest man carried a heavy club in his hand. He went to the first cot, recognizing the blonde hair of the dwarf who was the leader of his party. This one had what they wanted, or had held it earlier in the evening, but it would be easier to search bodies than to deal with live dwarves. The second man was smaller than his companion, but the blade of the wicked knife he carried gleamed in the moonlight as he stood over the second cot near the window.

The first man raised his club and took aim, prepared to strike the killing blow.


	11. Chapter 11

Fili opened his eyes, grasped his sword and raised it over his head. Sword and wood collided and the club sank onto his sword three inches deep before it stuck. Both weapons were locked together, but Fili had saved himself from a crushing blow. The man grunted and swore when he found that he had not killed. His prey seldom had time to fight back.

It took all of Fili's strength to hold the sword as the man, taller and several stones heavier, bore down on him with all his strength. He felt something scratch his cheek and saw that there were spikes driven through the head of the club to make it more deadly.

"Kili! Wake up!"

Kili heard his brother's shout and woke in time to roll aside before a long, curved blade plunged into the mattress, through the pillow where his head had been. He kicked out his foot, and struck a body. In the dark, it was hard to see who he was supposed to be fighting, but the knife was still stuck through the mattress beside him. Kili pulled it out and jumped to his feet, ready to fight whoever it was.

He saw the silhouette of the second man outlined by the open door. Kili laughed and lunged forward, but his feet were tangled in the bedclothes and the man knew better than to fight a dwarf who was awake and armed. He escaped out the door before Kili could free himself; his footsteps were loud as he ran down the stairs and away. Kili was about to follow his would-be murderer when his brother shouted again.

"Don't just stand there, damn it! Help me!"

Fili was still trapped on the bed under the first man who was not as easily scared off as his partner. The man fought to regain his club, or to push the spikes down into Fili's face. Kili gave a cry and ran back across the room to Fili's cot. He dropped the burglar's knife and took up his own sword from where it leaned against the wall; he pulled the notched blade from its scabbard.

Hearing the ring of the blade as it was drawn, the man finally saw that he was outmatched. He abandoned his club, still stuck onto Fili's sword, and jumped away from the bed. Fili pulled down his hands, and only just fast enough, as Kili swung blindly and nearly shaved the hair off his brother's knuckles. His sword caught the man as well, cutting a line across his shoulder and jaw but it was only a scratch and a glancing blow. The man ran fast and in fear for his life. He escaped out the door after his partner and was gone.

Kili went to the door and would have gone after them, but Fili stopped him.

"We'll have the whole house up in arms if we go running through the inn with weapons drawn!" Fili said, pulling his brother back into the room. He looked up and down the hall. There was no sound from below or from the rooms about them. If there were other guests at the inn that night, they were minding their own business.

"Foul robbers in the night," Fili muttered. He braced the club with his boot and pried his sword free of it. "This is good wood. It should make a solid handle or a doorstep, not a club for cowardly hands."

Fili shut the door to their room. There was only moonlight to see by, but he heard the snick of the latch and knew that the lock had not been broken. The burglars had had the key or they had picked the lock with more skill than he would willingly give them credit for; either way, he guessed who was to blame for their interrupted sleep.

"In the morning, we must have a word with the owner of this fine establishment," Kili said, smiling. "He should be taught the meaning of hospitality. If we were nearer to the mountain, I would…"

There came a muffled thud from the next room. Both brothers remembered that there was a third member of their company unaccounted for. Fili reached for his second sword, but Kili did not hesitate. He kicked open the door with his heavy boot and burst in with his sword already in hand.

He very nearly impaled the body of a young boy who was thrown suddenly against his chest. The boy tried to run, but Kili caught him by the shirt and held him tight. Betta was braced against the far wall, her knife in her hand and her eyes wide. She did not relax even when she saw the dwarves but kept her weapon held out before her.

"Are you hurt?" Fili asked her.

"She cut me!" the boy cried, twisting in Kili's hand. "She's killed me, and I've done nothing!"

"Nothing?" Kili said angrily, and shook him. "Do not deny that you're in league with the two cowards who tried to kill me and my brother in our beds."

"She stabbed me!" the boy insisted. He could not have been more than twelve years old.

"If you break into a stranger's room, you deserve what you get," he told him.

Fili took the boy from his brother and looked him over, turning him around and checking for wounds. "She cut only cloth," he said. "Follow your friends and be grateful that I do not give you worse. If I have sight of you or them again, it will go badly for all three."

He let go of the boy, who did not need to be told twice. The boy ran. Kili watched him go, still angry, but then he laughed and shook his head. "So begins our adventure," he said. "Well, are you hurt, lass?" he asked Betta.

She scowled, and her hands shook as she put her knife back in its sheath. "Do you always let live those who would try to kill you?" she said.

"Would you like me to bring the boy back?" Fili offered. "He was down at the kitchen when I ordered our meal. I'd guess I would find him there again if you would like another try at sticking him with your letter opener there."

"I have never killed a man in cold blood."

Fili frowned, and Kili glanced at his brother. There was more in her words than she said. "When have you killed a man?" he asked.

Betta shook her head and said nothing.

The small room was a mess. Her cot had been tipped on its side and her baggage scattered. Kili helped to right the cot, but Fili insisted that they all sleep in one room now. The two dwarves carried the cot and her baggage into their room, and Fili put his bed against the door to the hall. Kili put his bed against the door to Betta's small room. They made certain that the window was latched, and then all three checked their packs to be sure that nothing had been stolen. Even after that was done, Betta stared long at Fili and there was anger in her eyes.

"What have you to say now?" he demanded. "I am tired of your scowl."

"I only wonder why they would risk two dwarves with such long knives," she said. "Your guests were cowards, but they were not stupid. The boy was looking for something."

"And how would you know this? I suppose you had a very friendly conversation before you flailed your arm like a child and tore his shirt with your butter knife."

"I have been pickpocketed before," she said. "I know the difference between it and a thief that knows what he is looking for. And I heard the boy speak as he searched my room before he knew that I was awake. He said, 'Where is the purple stone.'"

"How could they know about that?" Kili said, looking at his brother.

Fili stared at her. He put his hand into his pocket and felt the weight of the pearl. He had gone down to order their dinner the evening before, and had seen the boy in the kitchen. Had the boy been there when Fili had taken the pearl from his pocket and looked at it in the firelight? The innkeeper had been long in coming to take their order; Fili had not thought anything of holding the precious stone in his hand as he waited, but perhaps that had been a mistake.

"Fili?" Kili said, waking his brother from his thoughts. "Fili, where is the pearl?"

"It is safe," Fili said. Kili had nearly had his throat cut because his older brother had been careless with their small treasure. Fili, who prided himself on his practical thought and planning, was to blame for their attack.

Betta had not yet forgiven him for keeping her pearl from her, and she had many more angry things to say to him now, but she saw his doubt and the way he looked at his brother, and she knew that no fighting words on her part would change him.

"What is done is done," she said to Kili. She refused to speak to the other brother. "We are all tired. Best to get as much sleep as we can out of what is left of the night. I am sure that your brother will want us early on the road again when morning comes."

She lay down without another word and turned her back to them. Kili looked to his brother for answers, but Fili only shook his head. Betta had a right to be angry. Kili had a right to be angry as well, but Fili knew that he would never see his older brother as anything less than a hero. For the first time, Fili wondered if he had done right by taking his brother on this adventure. Kili had wanted to go – and it had been his idea to speak with the woman in the first place – but life would always be an adventure for Kili; he seldom saw the danger until he was hip deep in it.

Fili's frown was contagious, and Kili was no longer smiling. "Well, brother," he said, "is this not an adventure that will prove our worth to our uncle?" he asked.

"I think that we will all look upon it better by the light of day," Fili said. Anything else that he might have said he kept to himself. He was embarrassed by his mistake, but he could not admit it, not even to Kili, when he knew that Betta lay nearby and was listening to every word that was spoken.


	12. Chapter 12

**Credit where credit is due: the Travel Times in Middle Earth website has been indispensable to me in determining travel times and distances throughout this story. Unfortunately, the doc-editor won't let me past the link to site my source. That's okay, you can google it. Theoriginalseries-dot-com-forwardslash-travel times**

* * *

They slept the rest of the night undisturbed, and before the first light of dawn colored the sky, Fili was awake; he had no intention of wasting a single moment of daylight. He rose before Betta, but she opened her eyes the moment his feet touched the floor. Kili was still snoring in his bed twisted up in blankets. Fili had to unwrap him and dump him onto the floor to rouse him.

They packed their things and did not bother to rearrange the rooms, leaving that to the innkeeper and his staff. Kili prepared the ponies with Betta and helped her to load their baggage; she touched the animals as little as possible and they seemed as wary of her as she was of them. Before they rode away, Fili had a quiet word with the innkeeper.

When they set off again, he had half the coins he had paid for the rooms back in his pockets and additional food to last them two days at least from the innkeeper's stores. It was no more than dried fruit and nuts and a few loaves of stale bread, but it was better than the slop that they had eaten the night before. Kili was cheerful, declaring that they had come out ahead in the end, but Fili was silent. He had not liked the look of the innkeeper as they rode off, and the kitchen boy was nowhere to be seen.

Fili pressed them on down the main road. They could not let the ponies run, not without all their baggage tumbling away behind them, but he insisted that they ride through the morning. He allowed them only one short break to dismount and walk the animals after several hours, and that was only because Betta refused to ride farther without a chance to stretch her legs. They made it eight leagues before they stopped at midday for their meal.

From the hill where they stood, the shining ribbon of the Little Lhun wound less than a mile below them with the road following it for the most part along its bends. Fili planned to follow the road for another twenty-five leagues or so until it curved southwards and passed over the main crossing, a ferry, a few miles north of where the little river met the big. There was a large town there, practically a city by the standards of the northern lands, but Fili meant to leave the road and turn north before they reached it and to make for a little used ford that he knew some miles up the river. There, the banks drew as close together as they would ever come and the river bed was rocky and shallow. Except when the river flooded in the spring, three ponies could cross it easily, and they would not be seen. After their attack at the inn, Fili was wary and did not like that many should know that they were going out into the wild without a large guard.

That afternoon, they rode without singing and with very little talk between them. For a few hours at least, the clouds had broken and the sky was a clear, icy blue that promised winter, but not just yet. The sun that shone down on them was warm.

They met only one other company of travellers on the road that day, an old farmer and his wife on a wagon riding slowly west toward the mountains. The farmer looked strangely at the two Dwarfs and woman, but his wife smiled and Betta raised her hand to them as she passed.

"Good journey," she called.

"And you," the wife answered. Her husband frowned but nodded his head before urging his horses to trot faster.

Fili and Kili glanced at each other and said nothing. They were both surprised that Betta would say anything when she seemed so wary of strangers, wary even of her own companions.

About a mile after they had passed the wagon, Kili let his pony drop back a few lengths from where he had ridden beside his brother and instead kept pace with Betta who had followed several lengths behind the Dwarves since setting out.

"You are riding better today," he said. "I no longer fear that you will fall off the animal."

"I am glad that _you_ no longer fear it," she said.

"You carry a bow as well," Kili commented. He had seen it in her baggage and thought that it was a crude tool, inferior to his own. "I am curious to see how well you use it. But the bow is a distance weapon, and a knife is for close quarters. You are a contradiction. Why not learn to wield a sword as well?"

"Swords do not grow on trees," she said. "And a sword is a weapon of war, made for battle. It has no other use. A knife is useful for many things, only one of which is as a weapon of defense when there is no other choice but to fight. My bow belonged to my father."

"He taught you to shoot?"

She shook her head. "He taught me to hunt. The rocky lands of Lossarnach are not so fertile as the fields of fair Lebennin. After my brothers declared that they would leave our farm and join the soldiers of Gondor to guard the wall of the Pelennor, I made my father teach me so that we would not starve in bad times. My arrows are my own. I made them."

"They look… well made," Kili said. He was no more impressed by the crude shaft and wild-bird feathers than he was by the bow, but he heard the pride in her voice and did not tell her so.

Betta looked ahead at Fili, who rode before them and pretended not to hear them speaking. "I am sorry for the loss of your mother," she said quietly to Kili. "Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I know that it is a hard thing to bear."

He swallowed the grief in his throat. "It is hard," he agreed. "Did you not say that your own mother died in grief after the loss of your father?"

"She did. I nursed her on her final bed, and she spoke only his name."

"I think… I think that it was the same for us. Our mother – Dis was her name – she was changed after the death of our father and never recovered from the loss of him. Fili looked up to our father more than anything, but he dearly loved our mother. He never used to be so single minded and stubborn until the loss of her. He was her favorite, you know."

"It is good that you have your uncle still," Betta said.

They rode in silence again. Kili struggled to remember what she had said of her family history days ago when they had sat in a pub, and he had thought her a liar. All that he could recall of her kin was that they were all or most of them dead. He had always loved his uncle, the famous Thorin Oakenshield, but now he realized just how lucky he was to still have the old Dwarf looking after him, and to have Fili, his brother as well. How quickly he could lose all that he had left.

.

They rode all day, from sunup to sundown. Betta was tired and sore and whether Kili thought she rode well or not, she had pains in places that she did not know could feel pain. Her teeth were on edge from the constant up and down of the pony's trotting, and she was tired of listening to the wind. It had picked up as the day drew on and, after their brief talk, Kili had returned to his brother's side. If they had spoken, they had been too far ahead for her to hear the words.

"We'll camp here for the night," Fili said, pulling up his horse. There was a low ridge to the east to give them shelter but little else on the wide, hard plain. "With luck, we will reach the ford before tomorrow's end and make camp on the eastern shore. Then it will be your turn to lead."

Betta climbed down from her pony, nearly falling to the ground as her stiff limbs protested. The ground was hard and, after the warmth of the day, the wind was growing colder. Riding was tiring work, and she took down her pack and unrolled her blanket, ready to wrap herself up and sleep even without dinner. The pony would look after itself.

The dwarves had taken down their bags and were setting up the camp. "There's kindling enough," Fili said. "See if you can't find some larger wood for the fire."

"Fire?" Betta looked up in surprise. She saw that Fili had gathered a small pile of twigs and brush. Kili had taken out a pan and a bundle of food, mostly dried meat and hard cheese, and he was making preparations for the evening meal.

"Unless you'd rather freeze to death in your sleep," Kili said. "The night will be cold, and we will have little shelter." He took the pan and walked off in search of water for their cooking.

Betta sat staring a moment then stood up, shaking her head. The food in her pack needed no cooking. She seldom built a fire when she was in the wild unless she had hunted or fished and needed to cook the raw flesh. It was cold here, certainly, but not so cold that they would freeze even after the ground had forgotten the heat of the day.

Her knees protested, but she walked away from the ridge in search of firewood. There were only small twigs, the remains of low bushes that had grown in the summer. Nearer to the river there would be small groves and even perhaps enough trees together to be called a wood, but on the plain they had little chance to thrive. In the distance, against the fading light of dusk, she saw the silhouette of a single, naked tree. She walked that way, looking for branches.

The tree was young, but it had been aged by the harsh weather. It was still alive and bore a few lingering leaves on its shivering arms. There was a large fallen branch nearby and many smaller sticks that it had shed. Betta reached out and pressed her hand against the cold truck of the tree; she looked up at the branches and saw the stars shining as if though outstretched fingers. She did not realize that she was smiling.

"Are you an Elf now?" Kili said, coming up behind her. "Tell me, what does the tree say to you?"

Betta's smile fell away and she saw that he had an axe in his hand. She knew from the way he looked at the tree that he intended to cut the whole thing down and drag it back to camp. It would be more wood than they needed for one nigh but easier than gathering loose branches.

"It says that it is cold," she said, "and lonely."

She gathered her arms full of dead wood from the ground and left Kili and the tree. She knew that Dwarves had little love for growing things, their hearts were given to rock and stone, but still she hated the waste.

At the camp, Betta dropped her load next to Fili and went back to her blanket. She had not brought enough to keep the fire going all night, but she didn't care. She did not need a fire.

Fili frowned at her, but he had never known her not to be in a foul mood, so he didn't question it this time. He built his fire and set the pot, now full of water from a nearby spring, on to boil. Not long after, Kili returned. He carried an armload of wood that was twice the size of what Betta had brought, but it was all dead wood; behind him, he dragged what was left of the large, fallen branch to be chopped up later as the night wore on. His axe hung at his belt, unused.

Kili glanced at her as he crouched down beside his brother, holding his hands out to warm them by the fire. Betta sat apart, wrapped in her blanket, refusing to share in the warmth. The smell of cooking meat made her stomach grumble, and she took out a bundle of dried fruit, cheese and bread from her bag. It was poor fare compared to the savory stew that the dwarves were cooking up.

She was surprised when Fili approached her with a bowl and put it into her hands. He said nothing, but he accepted the small loaf of bread that she held up to him - better by far than the dry stuff that the Dwarves had packed. He took it back to the fire to share with his brother.

Betta ate her meal. The Dwarves' stew was far better than that of either the inn that they had stayed in the night before, or the inn she had stayed in near Ered Luin. Fili and Kili were speaking together again, softly and the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the wind covered it. Now and then, one of them would look her way, but she was too tired to notice. She finished her food and curled up under her blanket. She lay with her head resting on one of her bags and fell asleep.

"I suppose that we should practice following our soon-to-be guide," Fili said not long after that. "Sleep now, Kili. I will take the first watch."

* * *

**I am so grateful to those of you who have read this far and are still interested. I've lost count of the hours that I've spent writing and researching for this story. If like what you've read, please send me a message or write a review letting me know what you think, what you like or mistakes that you've found. I write for myself, but I post the chapters for you all.**

**- Paint**


	13. Chapter 13

Betta dreamed that she stood on the tall wall beyond her father's fields in Lebennin. She often stood on that wall, holding tight to the branches of the tree that grew nearby and looking east toward the Black Land. It seemed a long time ago that her uncles had gone away with the other men to join the armies of Lossarnach and strengthen the guard on the shores of Anduin. Pirate ships had been seen in the southern waters and men were coming up from the south, perhaps from Harad. The once beautiful city of Osgiliath had been raided so often that the very stones of its walls were crumbling and wild men trespassed through the gardens of Ithilian.

Her mother had hated for her to stand on that wall, and her father would order her down whenever he saw her, but on this day, neither mother nor father had been there to see. They were in the village with the others, watching the bodies of the men being carried home on their shields. Her uncles were dead, but their bodies had been lost to the river; their shields were returned empty to Lebennin, and their broken swords were with them.

In her dream, Betta stood on the wall and looked east, but she did not raise her eyes to the Black Land. She was looking down at the road that wound north from Pelargir in the hopes that she might see her uncles striding back across the fields, tall and proud, and their dark hair blowing in the wind, their grey eyes laughing as they had on the day they had marched away. In her dreams, a wind blew out of the east and shook the branches of the tree. She lost her hold and fell from the wall...

.

Betta felt herself shaken awake. She drew her knife, but a hand was on her wrist before she could use it. "It's time for your watch," Kili whispered.

She blinked and against the light of the fire she recognized his shape. He let go of her arm, and she put the knife back in its sheath. She scowled at him, angry that he had been able to catch her off her guard and to stop her arm so easily. He only shrugged.

"I may not speak to trees," he said, "but I know better than to wake a woman who sleeps with a blade for a pillow. Take your watch."

"Watch?" Betta was tire and felt she was being made a fool for not understanding. If it was so, then Kili was too tired to laugh at her.

"Stand guard," he said, covering a yawn. "Try not to let us be murdered by orcs as we sleep." He stumbled away and lay down beside his brother. He was asleep almost immediately.

Betta sat up and looked around. The night was quiet. She hadn't heard or seen sign of any animal beyond themselves and their ponies. The night was much colder now than it had been when she had gone to sleep, and she shivered as she sat wrapped in her blanket with her hood pulled up over her head. The fire died down to a few glowing embers, but she moved closer to them rather than feeding the flames. She considered cutting a few spare arrow shafts from the sticks at hand, but she knew that her fingers were too cold to safely hold the knife.

.

Morning was long in coming, but when it did, Betta was glad to be awake to watch the sun rise over the gray horizon. The red and gold play of light against cloud warmed her, and though the air was cold, it was clear. She stood up, stretching her aching arms and legs. In the night, she had been able to hear the quiet voice of a stream on the other side of the ridge under which they sheltered and now she took the pan from the ground near Fili's elbow and went to fill it.

The embers from last night's fire were still glowing when she returned, and she fed them twigs and sticks until they were hot enough to warm the water. By the time the dwarves were awake, Betta was washing her face and hands with a cloth that steamed in the cold morning air.

"I thought you two meant to sleep the day away," she said to them.

Fili stared at her. Kili was just as surprised as his brother, but seeing hot water ready, he smiled. "Good morning," he said, and accepted the cloth from her hands to wipe the night from his face and neck. The warmth felt good after the cold, and in no time the dwarves were talking merrily back and forth as they cooked the breakfast meal.

Betta listened as she packed her bag and tied the straps that held her bow and quiver to her pack. She found herself remembering her own brothers and the way they would talk carelessly together, laughing and making jabs at each other in the barnyard as they did their morning chores. She murmured to her pony and patted his neck. He whinnied and nuzzled against her shoulder.

At the fire, Fili had made the morning porridge. He filled two bowls and handed both to Kili. When his brother looked at him curiously, he nodded to Betta who stood apart from them. "I brought her dinner last night," he said. "It is your turn to feed our woman."

Kili did not smile at his joke. "Perhaps, but you have more ground to make up for with her," he said. "She does not like you, brother."

Fili shrugged. "I do not need her to like me, only to bring us both to the treasure we seek. So long as we bring home proof of an adventure to Thorin, she can like or hate us as she pleases."

Kili took the bowls, but he said, "It is not both of us that she will hate."

Fili watched his brother go. From the beginning, he had told himself that Kili was right and that he should try to be more friendly, but his mind was on the goal of their journey, not the journey itself. Now that he had convinced the woman to set out with them, his thoughts had returned to his uncle, and he knew that Thorin was alone in the halls of Ered Luin still staring at his maps. What did it matter to him that he and the woman would never be friends?

Betta stood beyond the ridge, her face turned south east toward the sunrise and the falling stream of the Little Lhun. Many hundreds of leagues beyond that were the flowering fields and white shores of Lebennin. Kili brought her the bowl of porridge, but he had to speak twice before she heard him.

"Thank you," she said, taking the food gladly. She sat down where she was and began to eat.

Kili looked back at his brother. Fili was among the ponies, checking the saddles and arranging their baggage. Kili knew that he should eat quickly and then go to help him, but he sat down beside Betta, crossing his legs under him as she did. He was more used to eating at a table than on the ground, but he was beginning to learn.

She looked at him. "You do not need to pretend to be sociable with me," she told him. "I am used to my own company."

"I begin to wonder," he said. "How did you survive in the wild if you do not know how to make a fire or to keep watch at night?"

"I did not say that I do not know _how_ to make a fire," she said. "I traveled through the south where there is little need for the heat of fire even in the night," she explained. "One person can travel faster and lighter, and will attract less attention than many, or three. With a strong arm and a safe camp, there is little need to set a watch. Also, I am a light sleeper."

"You were sound asleep last night when I woke you," he reminded her. "And the kitchen boy was in your room before you woke to find him there."

Betta scowled. "That would not have happened if it weren't for your brother," she said. "It was he who insisted we stay at an inn, and he was the one who held out _my_ pearl for all to see, practically begging some thief to take it!"

"And he feels the guilt of that mistake. If he will not apologize, and you will not forgive him, then we will all have a miserable journey and we had best get it over with." Kili stood up. He looked down at her and added, "I hope that you are able to look out for more than one. We are certain to meet with some exciting new danger after we enter the barren lands on the eastern side of the river, and you cannot be forever relying only on yourself."

They finished their breakfast, cleaned and packed up the bowls and mounted their ponies. Fili looked at his brother, but Kili said nothing of his conversation with Betta and Fili did not ask. As the three of them rode past the lonely, bare tree, Betta smiled sadly and raised her hand to it. She did not know that Kili had looked back and that he saw her. He did not smile but looked thoughtful. When Fili looked back at them both, Kili had turned his gaze ahead and Betta was looking east again, frowning into the wind.

.

The day passed and they made good time but when night came they once again camped under the open sky. Another fire and another night of watching in turns. And, although they knew better than to speak it aloud, each traveller wondered if, perhaps, the dangerous part of their journey had passed and they would have an easy ride after all.


	14. Chapter 14

**This chapter contains descriptions of violence that may be upsetting to some. Reader discretion is advised.**

* * *

On the fourth day of their riding, the weather turned cold again. The sky was as gray as the morning before had been blue, and the wind was cold; billowing down from the north and east, it pushed against them as if it meant to turn them back. Fili pressed on, still hoping to reach the river and cross the ford before night fell.

Little was said that day. Kili spoke once or twice to Betta, and she responded. Fili knew that his brother wanted him to speak with her as well, and he would have if he could think of anything to say.

A few leagues out from the river, they began to see trees along the road, little copses of pine and spruce, but here and there an elm or a proud oak stood alone, sundered from its kind. They road on entering land where there were more hills, rolling and grassy or rocky outcroppings that the road cut through. There was one great hill, so tall and steep that the builders of the road had not attempted to cut into it. Instead, the road ran for half a mile around the hill on the northern side and passed through a small wooded glen with low hills on either side.

As they approached the covered way, Kili hesitated. His pony whinnied and shook its head, reluctant to enter the trees, and there was something strange in the air. Kili pulled his pony to a halt and sat still, turning his head to one side to listen.

Fili was a length ahead of his brother when he heard him stop. "What is it, brother?" he asked. He turned his pony aside and looked back at him. At the end of their line, Betta rode up to join them. She, too, frowned and was listening.

"The bird song," she said quietly.

Kili's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Yes," he said. Now that she had said it, he knew what it was that had puzzled him. There had been many different birds chirping during all their daylight travel; but near the hill, the songbirds were silent, and they heard instead the loud arguments of carrion crows.

"We should choose another way," Betta said.

"Wait here," Fili said. "I will ride ahead and have a look."

"You should not go alone," Kili told him.

"Stay with the… with Betta," Fili said. "Probably it is only the carcass of some wild animal, and I will interrupt the crows at their feasting."

He rode ahead. Kili wanted badly to follow him, but he knew that his brother was right. If Betta would not go forward, at least one of them had to stay behind with her. She was looking up at the sky, worried, and when Kili looked up he saw a flock of the same carrion birds, black crows and a few large ravens whose coughing cry could be heard over the cackling noise. They rose up in a cloud from the glen, flew into the air and then settled in the branches of the tall fir trees, scattered but not yet willing to leave whatever they had been feasting upon.

"He should not be alone," Kili said, gripping the reins. "If there should be a danger…"

Betta clenched her fists, but she nodded. If there was danger, two Dwarves were better than one, and she was as useless in a fight on the road as she would be in the trees. At least there, she might take cover and use her bow.

They rode forward, following Fili's path and joined him around the hill where the crows were gathering. Fili had left his pony at the edge of the trees and they saw him a little way into the copse. He was crouched beside something on the ground.

"What is it?" Kili asked.

Fili stood up. "See for yourself," he said.

Kili dismounted and joined him there. On the ground, half-hidden in the brush, lay two bodies of Men. One lay on his face, his back bloodied and covered with wounds made from a jagged blade and then widened by the beaks of crows that had begun picking at the dead flesh. There was a black arrow in his neck. The knife wounds were bloodless; his body had been hewn after he had been killed. The second man, Fili had rolled onto his back. His throat was cut and there were many cruel wounds on his face and chest, but it was the two-day old shallow cut along his shoulder and jaw that would have been familiar even if his face was unmarked.

"These are the men who attacked us at the inn," Kili said.

Fili nodded. "I wonder what brought them so far east. Were they following us?"

"If they were, then we would not meet them ahead on our road; they would have overtaken us from behind. What I wonder is why they are dead and what killed them? And where has it gone? That is an orc arrow or I am a fool." Kili pulled the shaft from the man's neck and looked at it.

"Both things could be true, brother," Fili said. "They have not been dead longer than a day. Probably they were killed early last night." He frowned down at the ground, looking for tracks to read, but the bed of dried pine needles showed only that there had been a struggle, not what or how many or where they had gone.

"There is a camp here," Betta called. She had dismounted and walked farther into the trees.

Fili followed her and caught hold of her arm. "You should not wander," he told her.

She said nothing but pointed into a clearing.

There was indeed a camp site there. The needles had been brushed away and the remnants of a small fire lay cold and black in the center. Several packs and blankets were scattered around, torn and searched, in many places smeared with black and blood. Worse, though, was the body of the young kitchen boy that lay at the edge of the clearing. The shirt on his back was stained brown with old blood, and Fili recognized the deep gash that an axe would make when thrown from a distance. The boy had been felled as he fled, and the heavy boot tracks that approached his body told that whoever had killed him had returned for the axe. There was the muddy print of a boot on the dead boy's back.

"I did not want this," Betta said. She knelt beside the boy and touched his hand.

"You did not do this," Fili told her. "Fror was right. The lands have grown dark. We must take more care. I did not think that we would meet the threat still on the western shore of the river. Do you regret your journey now?"

Betta looked up at him angrily. "This is not my doing, but can you say that it is not yours?" she demanded, standing up to look him in the eye. "They came this way to ambush us! To steal the pearl that you flashed in their faces! This boy should not be dead; he should not be here. My brother should not…" She closed her mouth and turned her back on him.

Fili stared at her in surprise. He looked to his brother, but Kili shook his head. They stepped to the other side of the camp to give her space to herself and spoke quietly together under the trees.

"Do we go on?" Kili asked. "We promised Thorin that there would be little danger, but I begin to feel that Betta is right. These men were waiting for us here. It is the only reason they would come before us and yet along our same path."

"It is not the only reason, but other enemies have taken care of that problem for us," Fili said. "Many travellers use this road. Even if these thieves were set to ambush us, that danger is gone. If it was orcs, or other wild men, we knew that we might face threats of this kind. It changes nothing. We must go on, or return to Ered Luin with our tails between our legs like beaten dogs and Thorin will leave us behind tied to the fence when he goes to take on the dragon."

Kili thought about that silently for several moments. He looked back at the bodies of the men and their blood that had long since soaked into the dirt. "If you mean to go on, then I will follow you. You are my brother," he said finally. "What about her?"

Betta had knelt on one knee beside the body of the boy. Fili wondered who the men of the south prayed to in their grief, or if her head was even bowed in prayer and not in memory of some other young man whose death she felt more keenly than that of an unknown kitchen boy.

"If she will go on, then we will go on," Fili decided. "It would be better if you told her. She will think that I am demanding if I ask her to decide. Whatever way she chooses," he added, "we must move soon. It is not safe to linger here."

Kili nodded. He went to Betta's side and waited for her to rise. Fili watched them from a distance. He did not hear what they said, but he saw the stern expression on the woman's face. She meant to go on. He knew it without waiting for Kili to bring him her answer. For the first time, Fili felt a sliver of respect for her. She was made of sterner stuff than he had at first believed.


	15. Chapter 15

The Lhun was a wide and shallow river before it gathered its tribute from the stream that flowed out of the Blue Mountains, and its bed was of smooth sand and stone. The confluence of the river with the Little Lhun was wide but gentle, and the ferry landing there was often busy with trade in the summer months. Below this juncture the Lhun flowed on stronger and faster and in a deeper bed for over fifty leagues until it emptied into the Gulf beyond Mithlond. There was no safe crossing except by boat over the river south of the Ferry, and in long years past that boundary had proved a strong guard against enemies of the western shores where Elves still dwelt.

The ford that Fili knew was little less than two miles above the meeting of the big Lhun with the little. It was well hidden and, though the river was low for the time of year, it still rose above the knees of their ponies and was icy cold for it flowed down out of the northernmost hills of Ered Luin, and those were capped with snow all the year round.

They rode quickly to the ford. This time, even Betta was willing to push their ponies as fast as they would dare without spilling the baggage. They reached the river with enough daylight left that Fili was willing to risk the crossing, and the others were willing to follow him.

It was a cold crossing, and the icy water splashed over their legs and froze them nearly to the bone. The cold was bitter, the more so because they were not yet used to being cold. All three travelers felt the danger of the land that they were entering into and knew that the river no longer defended them from the barren eastern plains – if it ever had. Even so, they lit a fire that night within sight of the river and even Betta huddled with the Dwarves close to the flames. They hung their wet clothes on the branches of a nearby tree and hoped that they would dry before the night air froze them solid.

"We have been lucky," Fili said, throwing wood upon the fire. "The weather promises to remain warm, or not as cold as it might have been at this time of the year. But we must angle our course north tomorrow and meet the topmost Hills of Evendim by the shortest route… if that is still our path…"

Betta had pulled her blanket around her shoulders, and she sat with the pages of the map laid on the ground between her knees. She nodded. "North, over Evendim," she said. "There was a tower there when this map was drawn, the last outpost of some small city as I read it. At least, I believe it to be a tower. It may be some other work of stone, the image is not clear, and the name of Ankor means nothing to me." She frowned at the page and shook her head. "Whether the thing still stands, I do not know."

"Then we will look for fallen stone," Fili said. "Rest, now. There will be time for map-reading tomorrow. I will take the first watch."

Nearly every night since they had set out – and often every day, as well – Fili had asked for direction from the map, and no answer that she gave was ever clear enough to satisfy him. For the first time, he was not demanding more information, and so she did not argue. She lay down close to the fire with her blankets wrapped around her, and she shivered as she slept.

The sun had sunk below Ered Luin and the moon had not yet risen beyond Emyn Uial. Kili moved closer to his brother. "Should we not set two to a watch?" he asked quietly. "Knowing the danger…?"

"If there is any danger, it would be better that we are well-rested," Fili said. "I do not fear a sudden assault, and neither should you. We will hear our enemy coming, if there is an enemy at all."

"There were orc arrows."

"I need no reminder of that," Fili said. "A thief will take what weapons he finds, be they laying on the ground or in another man's pocket."

"You truly think that some wild man found a stash of orc arrows and took them for his own?" Kili pressed on.

Fili sighed. "I believe that evil breeds evil, as it is said, and it is more likely that the men brought their danger with them and were killed by others who they harmed or meant to harm. Sleep now, brother, and cease looking for monsters where there are none. We will not be disturbed this night."

Kili said nothing more, but it took him long to fall asleep that night, and he kept his weapons near.

.

Fili's words proved true, however, and the night passed without event. Kili took his turn at watch and after him, he woke Betta and she sat up to watch the sun rise over the eastern hills. The only thing that any of them heard besides the wind and the rustling of night animals in the long grasses was the distant howl of wolves. The sound carried far across the flatness of the plains, and there were many leagues between the pack of wolves and the travelling company. The ponies shivered, but the howls did not come closer. At the dawn they ceased.

They rode on again, and another day passed. The only change was that the Emyn Uial drew nearer and the land became more rocky and bare until Fili worried that they would reach a place where there would be no grass for the ponies. Among their baggage they had packed in sacks a supply of feed, anticipating the coming winter, but it was only a precaution and they had not expected to use it. Fili kept this thought to himself, not wanting to admit that the animals that Betta had so strongly opposed might become a burden to them in the end.

When they stopped to eat their meal at midday, Betta drew out her maps and again poured over the pages. Kili tried to help, but his knowledge of the land of Arnor was dim.

Fili proved more useful. He had passed over the northern plains once thirty years ago with Gloin on what the older dwarf had called an adventure but which had turned out to be merely an excuse to separate two young brothers who had begun to take each other for granted and spent most of their waking hours fighting loud enough to rouse all of Ered Luin and the surrounding lands. After weeks apart, Fili had realized how important it was to keep Kili in his sights, and the two brothers had seldom been parted thereafter. Of course, although their fights were now few and far between, they were still infamously loud.

It was Fili who recognized two lines of faded ink as an old bridge over the long dried-up river that lay a few miles north of the Emyn Uial. After they reached the Hills, if they could not find the old tower, then they might make for the bridge. Fili thought that he could find it again.


	16. Chapter 16

It was on the afternoon of the sixth day of their journey that they finally reached the Hills of Evendim, but their path had drifted and they struck them much farther south than Fili had aimed for. In the eastern lands, there were few roads and only a handful of forgotten paths that were most often used by wild animals that turned them into trails leading to water or to den. The dwarves had to pick their path carefully through rock and tree and sudden ravine.

Their ride was slower now, and they often had to dismount and lead the ponies, climbing over hard terrain. Even Betta, who was used to walking and climbing on foot, began to wish for the easy ride that had been the first leg of their journey. By the time they climbed over the feet of Evendim, a mile above the flat plain, they were all exhausted and Fili called a halt though they had still an hour of daylight left.

"We will rest here now," he said. "The next leg of our journey will be more difficult and we must guard our strength for the cold plains ahead."

They made camp and spent their time sorting through the supplies they had left, counting out the days that they could stretch their food. There had been streams and small rivers along their road and, although there were sometimes long miles between them, there was no fear that they would suffer from thirst. Finding food in the north would be difficult, however. They carried enough for perhaps three weeks of light rationing, but neither dwarf was happy with the prospect of that.

"Tomorrow, we should keep an eye out for any small game," Kili said. "There is no knowing what we will find in the rocky hills, but we have not had good meat since the morning of our leaving. Even a rabbit or two would be welcome."

Fili whole heartedly agreed. Betta said nothing. She knew that her skill at setting traps and snares would be useless if they never meant to stay long in one place. She sat quietly, cutting new arrows from sticks and feathers, and Kili watched her work with a critical eye but kept his thoughts to himself.

That evening, as had become their habit, Fili took the first watch and Kili the second; the first half of the night passed without alarm, but in the early morning hours as Kili bent over Betta to wake her for her turn, a loud scream roused them all as it echoed up from the lower lands. It was followed by the howl of many wolves.

Fili jumped to his feet, pulling his sword and looked around for the enemy. Kili stood stock still, frozen while the terrible noise lasted, with his bow in hand. Only Betta for once did not draw her knife. She sighed, for she recognized the howls that she had heard for many nights and knew that they were closer but not yet very near.

"What in Durin's name was that?" Fili whispered.

"The death of an animal," Betta said. She unwrapped herself from her blankets and sat up, preparing to take her watch.

"What animal could make such a sound?" Kili muttered.

"I have heard sheep scream," she said. "And rabbits."

"That was no rabbit," Fili said.

"What do you say it is, then, if you know so much?" she asked him. "The wolves I have heard before. They make no such sound."

"You have heard wolves before tonight?" Fili demanded. "And you said nothing!"

"There are always wolves on the flat lands. You have not heard them on your watch?"

'You let us wander blindly over the plains without telling us that danger was hard on our trail? We have no defense here. There are not even trees to climb!"

"Fili, leave her be," Kili said. "I have heard the howls as well and thought you heard them, too. Until tonight, they have not been nearer than three leagues south of us. The sound carries far over the flatland."

Before Fili could speak again, there came a second scream echoing up from below. This time it was closer, but even Kili admitted that it sounded more like an animal than not. He relented and rolled up in his blanket. He was soon fast asleep, but Fili remembered the words of Fror and could not rest. It may be that some stray orc had indeed wandered down from the black hills of Carn Dum. He had heard of orc raids in Eriador, although they had been long before his birth.

"I will sit up and watch with you," Fili said to Betta.

"There is no need. I will be an old woman before I let a few stray dogs disturb my night." She spoke easily, yet she took out her bow and quiver and held them in her lap. "Were it a cat's cry in the night, however, you would find me hiding like a child under my blankets and it would be long ere you could tempt me to put out my head again."

"I know that the wild cats in the mountains can be dangerous…"

Betta laughed and shook her head. "I do not mean a wild cat, but one of the small, black mousers that sometimes farmers keep in their barns."

He stared at her in surprise, not knowing whether she was joking or in earnest.

"You were not raised on the night tales of my mother," she explained, seeing his confusion. "She often warned my brothers and I that if we were not fast asleep in our beds before the cats of Queen Beruthiel came prowling in the night, they would creep up onto our pillows and suck away our souls."

"Those were the tales your mother told?" he said.

"And so would you tell them if your children stayed all the night awake and wrestling on the floor when they should be asleep." Betta smiled, but the memory was tinged with sadness and she missed her brothers.

"It is important to you, this quest of ours," Fili said. "I am sorry if you think that I have made light of it."

"It does not matter to me whether you make light or dark of it," she said. "I have little left of my family to hold. I thought that in opening the box, I might find answers to… to questions that I…" She shook her head and said softly, "No, that is a lie. I spoke the truth when I said before that I believed that the box would be empty. That would have been the answer that I expected to be given."

"What answer?" he asked.

"That I am alone," she said. "But what else was I to do after I buried my parents in the fields of Rohan? I might have returned to Lebennin and found some third cousin far removed with no resemblance to the family that I loved, but I chose the northern path. There seemed more hope in it."

They sat in silence after that. Fili thought of the long, empty miles between Anduin and Eriador. He knew that his brother had begun to trust the woman before they had left even the shadow of Ered Luin, but Kili was always more quick to trust, just as he was more quick to fight and more quick to anger or to joy. Fili's mind was not so easily swayed, and his thought was on the end of their journey and Thorin's promise. Only when they returned with full hands to their uncle would he reconsider their request to join him on his quest to Erebor. They would only return triumphant if they found a golden treasure.

What did it matter to Thorin whether Betta found her answers or the lost home of her ancient people? If there was treasure, only then would there be profit in the journey. Fili needed to find that treasure. His heart darkened at the thought of it. Kili wanted adventure; Betta, answers to her family riddle; but Fili looked for gold and jewels, a motive that seemed less noble than theirs even if it was more appropriate to the desires of a Dwarf.

Almost, Fili was tempted to open his heart to the woman and confess his motives, but he had seen her face when she thought that no one watched. He knew that even tonight when she seemed to speak freely, there were secrets that she kept hidden from them. Whatever Kili said, Fili still did not trust her.

Suddenly, Betta squinted into the distance. "Do you see a light there?" she asked, pointing down toward the flat lands.

Fili looked. "The road that runs south from the ferry lies that way, and there are farms in the south, though not many. It may only be the camp of some other wanderer."

"But that is not what you think."

He frowned as he looked at the distant light and thought that he saw shapes upon it, but it was too far distant to be certain of anything in the uncertain light.

"I think that we will take more care in the future and cover our tracks as best we can before we move on in the morning. And I think that I will take my rest and leave you to watch the remainder of the night. If there is trouble, it will come tomorrow or in the days that follow, and those among us able to fight should be well rested."

Betta nodded, but her eyes were on the light in the distance. It was dim, and there was no measuring the miles between it and their camp, not in the dark of night. It might be no more than a farmer with a lantern smoking beside his wagon; or, it might be prowling thieves. She thought of Queen Beruthiel's cats and their eyes that shone in the night, and she shuddered.


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning, not even Kili needed Fili to wake him when the sun rose. None of them had slept well that night, but rise and move on they must. The Hills of Evendim were grim and gray in the morning light and the sky was overcast. There was no sign of movement on the flat lands below, but Fili led them close to the hills and wound their path among the thick brush and broken outcroppings of stone. He kept them under as much cover as he could find.

They watched all morning, but saw no sign of light or movement of anything but the scavenging mice and birds that lived under the sparse brush of hill and plain. They saw no animal larger than that either and, though Kili kept his bow handy, even he was not desperate enough to shoot at grouse and sparrows yet.

The hills on their right were not as tall as they had been. North into the distance, they marched down and down toward the flat lands until they blended into them. Fili guessed that they would be only a mile or two from the end of the range by the time they made camp at nightfall. He was satisfied with that and hoped to take advantage of the shelter of the hills once more before entering the open lands. On the following day, he knew, they would turn east above Evendim and enter into the north of Arnor. The wind had already begun to pick up; once they left the shelter of the hills, it would be bitter and cold.

Looking back, Fili saw that Kili's pony had dropped behind again and he was riding alongside Betta. Fili knew that the woman suspected that they were in this adventure for more than treasure, and he wondered if Kili had told her the secret of Erebor. Would his brother be so foolish? For many years, Thorin had been brooding on the Lonely Mountain, but only a handful of trusted dwarves knew that he meant to attempt the retaking of it. It was not a thing that he would want to be well-known. You did not become the Great Thorin Oakenshield without making enemies.

Fili shook his head and smiled. No. Not even Kili would be so foolish as to broadcast their plans to a stranger. If he knew his brother at all, Kili was begging for songs and stories of the south. From the look of things, Betta was not happy to be asked.

.

Fili halted them before the end of the day, seeing a shallow valley at the mouth of a deep ravine that cut into the rocky cliffs of the northern Emyn Uial. A thick grove of birch and pine grew in the shelter of the valley and a thin stream of clear water ran along the bottom, run-off from the hills above. It was a quiet and peaceful place, full of more life than they had seen since crossing the river. They were glad to make their camp there and to rest in preparation for the more difficult lands that they would enter next.

Fili and Betta made camp, brushed down the ponies and prepared the fire for cooking while Kili explored farther up the ravine. The dense trees, however peaceful seeming, could easily hide wolves or other predators, and he took his weapons with him.

An hour passed, and Fili had begun to turn his eyes often to the trees with worry, but there was no need. When Kili returned, he was grinning proudly and carrying three well-fed squirrels, each shot through the neck and still hanging from the arrows. The rodents were plump with the fat that would have kept them warm while they slept away the winter in their holes. They would not need it now.

The dwarves cleaned, skinned and gutted the squirrels; they threw the bodies, bones and all, into the stew pot. That night, they ate a cheerful meal stopping only to pick the thin bones from their teeth. Betta and Fili forgot to fight each other, and all three of them forgot to be afraid of strange lights or wolves.

After the bowls had been put away, they sat around the fire, and Kili again asked Betta to tell them a tale of the wars of the southern lands of Men.

She pulled her hood over her head and stared into the fire. "I know no tales that you would wish to hear," she said, "nothing of brave heroes and great battles. I have forgotten them, and all that I know lies under the shadow of the Black Land, and that is a shadow of grief."

"Very grim, I'm sure," Fili muttered, shaking his head at her.

She frowned at him but did not reply.

Kili shook his head at them both and lit his pipe. "Then tell any tale you like," he said. "Or, if you wish to sulk tonight, my brother can give us a rounding chorus of song."

"I will not!"

Kili laughed and threw his pouch of tobacco over the fire to his brother.

"Well, will you save my brother from embarrassing himself?" he asked. "Although, I assure you Fili sings as well as any Elf."

"Only three squirrels and already you grow too tall for your beard," Fili told him.

"Indeed," Kili said, combing his fingers through his beard. He winked at Betta, but she was gazing thoughtfully into the fire.

They sat quietly for several minutes, and the only sound was the crackling of the burning wood and the chirping of night-insects. Once, deep in the grove behind them, an owl cried. Betta gave a start and looked up from her thoughts.

"I have a tale to tell you, if you still wish to hear it," she said.

"I do," Kili said, immediately, and even Fili sat up to listen.

She took a moment to find her place, and then she began, "The fair river Poros runs down from Ephel Duath, the Mountains of Shadow, that guard the Black Land of Mordor. It pours green and laughing through the yellow grasslands of southern Ithilien. At least that is what I have been told, for I have never seen it. Long before my birth, the men of Harad attacked the crossing of the river and drove back the soldiers of Gondor. Many settlements were then razed and burned. There was much war and the land was turned from fair green fields to a battleground.

"Ten years before I was born, Ithilien was abandoned by all but a handful of scattered companies, Rangers for the most part, who remained there long to harry the invaders and prevent them from going farther north. They may wander there still, for all that I know, but I believe that even if Gondor should come to a final end, there will still be Rangers in Ithilien, like the memory of forgotten years.

"Harad did not build lasting settlements, but vagabond men and thieves wandered freely there and slowly they grew bold. Often the black-sailed ships of the Corsairs could be seen beyond the coasts of Belfalas, but now it was the Southrons who would make shift to attack the western shores of Anduin and even to fair Lebennin, to the farms of my family, there came the rumor of fear.

"When I was young, not a child but not yet full grown…" Betta frowned as she counted out the years. "It is twenty years ago now," she said quietly. "It seems so short a time…" She lifted her hand as if to push the thought away and continued.

"When I was young, the Ruling Steward, Ecthelion II, gathered his army at the ruin of Osgiliath and they determined to march south through Ithilien and route out the weeds that had grown in the Garden of Gondor. The men of Lebennin sharpened their arrows and their axes, and they gathered in companies well-ordered but under lesser command than the great captains of the White Tower. They marched east to the coast to cross in secret over Anduin in boat and barge south of Pelargir and so they would join with the army of Ecthelion and give them aid from their western flank.

"My family dwelt then west of the river Sirith, north of Pelargir. I watched my uncles march with the men of northern Lebennin and they were proud and fierce, their black hair blowing in the wind. They sang as they went away.

"That was the last I saw of them. Not even their bodies returned home to us."

In sadness, Betta fell silent. The night was quiet all around them and Fili found himself thinking of his mother and how Dis had felt to watch her brothers ride out to battle with the orcs of Moria in Azanulbizar. The bodies of Frerin and his son had been burnt there with many others, they had not returned to be buried in honor and in tombs of stone.

"How did the battle go?" Kili asked.

"Ecthelion was delayed in the north by orcs that came in force out of the vale of Minas Morgul and the men of Lebennin were sorely pressed. Harad had more than brigands coming over the Poros.

"When Lebennin first crossed Anduin, they meant to come in secret, but whether by treachery or otherwise, the enemy had word of their coming and they were ambushed by a company of Haradrim, armed with long spears and sharp swords. My youngest uncle, Andur, fell in the front lines, defending the barges so that the remainder of the companies could cross over. For days, there were many small battles and our men fought valiantly though they were outnumbered nearly ten to one by an overwhelming force. Finally, Ecthelion came down from the north and they were met there, and the enemy was routed and driven back across Poros into South Gondor that is a land forever torn by war.

"In the last battle, the shores of Anduin were again hard pressed as the remaining men of Harad sought access to the boats that had carried the men of Lebennin across. There, my last two uncles fell, Arborn and Beregil. Their bodies were lost to the sea and Andur was never found. My mother often prayed that he, too, had been taken by Anduin, for the Haradrim are cruel and have no honor even for the bodies of their own people.

"The garden of Ithilien had been weeded, but never again will men dwell there in peace and though the danger had lessened, our coasts were still harried by the pirate ships of wild men. My father moved my family into the eastern lands of Lossarnach in the same year of the birth of Denethor, the son of Ecthelion, and not long after my brothers joined the guard on the wall of the Pelennor. They would soon ride out to the aid of the men of Osgiliath and would too soon be killed in battle there."

Betta fell silent again, her story was over. Kili would have asked her to tell them of the death of her brothers as well, but Fili caught his brother's eye and shook his head. That was a tale for another night. Instead, at his suggestion, the brothers sang a song of ancient Belegost and the many wonders made by Dwarven hands in the years before the drowning of Beleriand. Even though Fili had protested, and his brother had teased, he did not mind the singing.

This is only a small part of what they sang for there were many verses all much the same, describing gold and silver and the things wrought of them in ancient days.

Before the fall of Azaghal

When Telchar wrought far under stone

In Nogrod fair, the Mountain Hall

In Belegost, Gabilgathol

The Dwarf folk rose and walked alone

And songs they sung of rock and bone

.

Before the Wrath, before the Dread

The Dwarf folk carved their mansions grand

The pearl, they strung on silver thread

With jewels like stars, with rubies red

The dust of diamond lay like sand

Where gems were cut by dwarven hand

.

In ruins lie the Dwarven halls

Where once the forge burned fierce and bright

In fair Nogrod, in mountains tall

In Belegost, Gabilgathol

The fire is dead, and dead the light

Yet still burns fierce the Dwarven might

.

The song ended, and the final deep notes echoed up into the ravine behind them and down onto the flatlands.

After the notes had faded into silence, Kili laughed and said, "Brother, if you would only sing half so well when we return home, you will have a wife and crying babe in no time."

"That I will save for you, dear brother. I am not a brave enough dwarf to face that peril yet."

Soon after, they lay down for bed, and Betta offered to take the first watch and let the dwarves sleep. Kili did not argue; he was satisfied with the midnight watch, but Fili hesitated. They had watched in the same turns from the beginning of their journey and it felt strange to him to sleep first.

"You are certain?" he asked her.

"I am not in the mood for sleep just yet," she said. "I would like to see the stars come out, and it is quiet here among the trees."

He shook his head at her. The clouds were too thick for stars tonight. He lay down beside his brother with his blanket around him and his sword near at hand. In spite of his misgivings, he soon fell asleep and his dreams were of lost treasure found.


	18. Chapter 18

Kili woke suddenly and sat up. For a moment he thought himself back at home at Ered Luin, waking up in his bed in the room that he shared with his brother, but the mattress on his bed had never been so hard, and the walls of that room, though made of stone, were smooth, not rough and cold as the rock behind him now. His heart beat fast and he felt a cold sweat drip down his back, but as he looked around, he could not discover what had woke him.

The fire had burned low and the moon was high in the sky. It was well past the hour when Betta should have woke him for his watch, but she hadn't. He looked around and did not see her. Fili still lay beside him, fast asleep and snoring, but there was no sign of anyone else. What _had_ woken him, then? He thought that it had been the old owl crying in the woods again, but the feeling at the back of his neck told him that it was no owl.

Far up the ravine, Kili heard the snap of a branch that echoed loudly in the night. He thought that he heard something else, a grunt or a gasp that cut off sharply. Silently and slow, he stood up and reached for his sword.

Fili stirred, feeling his brother move. He muttered a curse. "What are you…?"

"Quiet!"

Fili took his sword in hand. He stood up, wide awake and wary. The brothers put their backs together and looked out into the darkness, their eyes searching. It was too quiet. There was no sound of bird or insect, not even the wind whispered in the branches of the trees.

"Kili, what is...?"

And then there came a scream, the same scream that they had heard coming up from the plain the night before, and the same scream that had woken Kili, although he had been too fast asleep to remember it. There was no mistaking it for an animal this time.

A dark shape burst through the trees out of the ravine, running towards them. For an instant, Kili thought it must be Betta fleeing from whatever creater had made the scream, and then the clouds broke and the moon, nearly full, shone down on the twisted black face of an orc. It leapt into the air and down upon the dwarves. It was small and thin, more bone than meat, but it held two long, jagged knives with sharp teeth.

Kili spun around, swinging his sword. There was the crack of metal cutting bone and the orc's head was separated from its shoulders. It fell to the ground and bounced away into the dark. A moment later, the lifeless body collapsed in a heap at their feet.

Kili laughed. "Well, that was…"

A second orc jumped down from the cliffs above them onto Fili's back, shrieking and clawing with sharp nails. It sank its teeth into Fili's shoulder. With a shout, he ducked his head and threw the creature aside. The orc tucked and rolled with a practiced movement that belied its twisted limbs. It landed on its feet and hissed with a malice that was hotter than fire. It cursed the dwarves in its own foul language, but it feared the cold iron in their hands and did not attack. Turning on its heels, it loped away down the hill toward the plain, its red tongue lolling from its gasping mouth.

"It's going to escape!" Fili cried, holding his shoulder where the orc had bitten him.

"It won't," Kili said.

He took up his bow and fit an arrow to the string. He took sight and with the last of the failing moonlight, he loosed his arrow.

It struck its mark. The orc fell with the feathered shaft sticking out of the back of its neck. The dwarves stood still for several minutes, straining their ears for any sound, but all was quiet and slowly the night insects began to chatter again and in the trees they heard the call of an owl. It was a real owl, this time, and the dwarves relaxed to hear it.

Fili touched his shoulder carefully, feeling his injury. The orc's teeth had done more damage to his coat than to his body, but it's clawed hind leg had pierced the leather and scratched him. It was not a bad wound, but it was a sharp pain and it angered him. He kicked over the headless body of the orc that had fallen near the fire.

"Weak and skittish creatures," he muttered. "These are not the great orcs of the eastern lands, nor do they come from the mountains. The goblins there do not often attack, but when they do they come in overwhelming numbers or set sneaking traps to ensnare their prey without needing to face weapons."

"Where are they from, then?" Kili asked. "And are these the throat-cutters who attacked the camp of our friends from the inn?"

"If I were forced to guess, then I would say that they are not. These orcs are only scavengers who ventured out of the mountains of Angmar and are not part of a greater host. They were scared and have not eaten well. Probably they are more used to raiding farms and stealing food or attacking one and two travellers at a time who are unarmed and unwary. They did not expect to meet dwarves this night."

"Lucky for us," Kili said, but he laughed and held up his sword. "That was hardly a fight! Shall we hunt the hills now or wait until morning to drive out any remaining rats?"

Fili was not laughing. He was thinking of orcs and their sharp knives. Throat-cutters, Kili had called them. Sneak-thieves in the night. Fili could think of no other reason why Betta had not woken them or made a sound. The only sign of her was the rumpled blankets on the ground where he had last seen her sitting, looking up at the sky. He should never have agreed to let her take the first watch.

Kili had been swinging his sword, delighting in his victory, but then he stopped to look around. Fili guessed that he had finally missed the sound of his audience; certainly, if she had been there, Betta would not have passed up the chance to point out that Kili had delivered the killing blow to _two_ orcs while all Fili had done was shake loose the one that had got caught in his hair.

"Where is Betta?" Kili asked, looking at his brother.

But Fili shook his head. "We will look for her body in the morning."

* * *

**The End... or is it? Okay, it isn't, but please review. I'm grateful to those of you who've wandered thus far along my poor and long-winded tale. Nothing brightens my day like your wonderful comments and reviews. I am not too proud to beg.**

**-Paint**


	19. Chapter 19

"I do not believe it," Kili said. "I do not believe that she is dead. Betta would not come all this way, come so close after searching so long, only to let some stunted orc murder her in her sleep."

"If she had been awake and keeping watch, do you not think that she would have made some sound to warn us?" Fili told him, trying to be gentle. "It has been a long journey and we were all tired. She was not used to the first watch. Is it any wonder that she would fall asleep? The orcs crept up and… and they took her body away."

Kili scowled and turned his back. He went to the blankets that Betta had left behind to look for sign of her, but Fili followed him. "Indeed, I do not blame her," he went on. "If there is any fault to be found, it is with me. Fror warned me that there were orcs in these lands, yet I was careless. I should not have…"

"She is not dead," Kili insisted. He crouched and touched the cold ground. There was no sign of a struggle, but rock and stone do not leave easy tracks to read, and Kili was no tracker.

"She was the farthest from the cover of the woods," he reasoned. "If orcs had killed her, then why did they not kill us as well? There is no reason for them to kill her quietly, carry her body away and only then return to attack us after we were awake and had blade in hand. They would have killed us all three at once; or, taking her away, they would not have returned."

"Then where is she?" Fili demanded. "Kili, you must accept that she is dead."

"I will not," he said, standing. "You may mourn her death if you wish – although I do not think that you will grieve overlong. I will not despair until I find a body cold and rent with knives." Kili turned toward the trees, intending to go in search of her, but Fili caught his arm and would not be shaken free.

"You will cause your own death if you run heedlessly into danger," he said.

"I do not go heedless. I know what the danger is," Kili said, looking his brother in the eye. "But I will not rest until I am sure that she is out of it. If that means that she is dead, then so be it, but can you sleep tonight not knowing?"

Fili sighed. He shook his head. "No. I would not rest," he admitted. He was convinced that the woman was dead, but Kili was right that neither one of them would sleep so long as her body lay free for the animals to despoil. There was no use in waiting for daylight to search.

In part of his mind, Fili also knew that Betta carried their map on her person at all times. He knew it, but he refused to think on it. She would say that he only looked for her to find the treasure map. "Even if you think that I am heartless, I am not," he muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" Kili asked, looking up.

"Nothing. Make a torch," Fili said, gathering branches and the long, green grass together. "And keep your sword in hand. Betta's ghost will not thank us for joining her in death. There may be more battles for us to fight before the red sun rises."

They gathered the ponies and tied them under the shelter of the cliff. After they had lit their torches in the embers, they covered over the fire and entered the woody valley.

When they had first come to the narrow ravine, it had seemed a peaceful place, but now the dim moonlight shone yellow through the clouds, and their torches reflected red against the white trunks of the peeling birch so that they seemed to be stained with blood. The ground was thick with fallen leaves, muffling the sound of the dwarves' heavy boots, but to their right they heard the trickling of water over stone. The peace of the ravine was deceptive now that they knew what had been hiding under branch and bough as they laughed carelessly and sang by the fire.

.

Kili moved quickly through the trees, waving his torch back and forth over the undergrowth. He had been up the ravine once before to hunt and now as he went, he cursed himself for not noticing any sign of orc. Not that he heard or saw sign of them now, but it must have been there, and he must have missed it. He hurried forward and bit his tongue to keep from calling out Betta's name. At least he knew better than to do that.

Fili followed behind him more cautiously, his sword raised and ready. He was there to protect his brother and did not carry any real hope that they would find Betta's body with only torchlight to aid them. While Kili searched, Fili strained to listen for any sound beyond the racket that his brother was making.

It was lucky that he did, for he heard a sound in the trees that Kili missed, and was ready when a third orc dropped down from the branches. This orc was fleeing, however, and did not attack. It hissed at Kili's back and turned to run, but found itself facing Fili's ready sword. By the time Kili turned around, the orc was lying at his feet, its body rent. It twitched and squealed as it died.

"If you cannot be more quiet," Fili whispered, "we would do better to stand here and let the orcs come to us."

"I am not making all the noise," Kili said. "And I am not looking for orcs. I am looking for our lost companion. If she is captive and not killed, then she may not live long enough for us to take care in the search."

"If you do not take care, then you will not live long enough to rescue her," Fili reminded him, but his brother had already moved on. "Of all the Dwarves in Middle-earth, how did I earn you for my close kin," he muttered, as he hurried after his brother.

After their second attack, however, Kili did seem to take more care as he walked; but, further up the ravine, it was still Fili who first heard movement in the bushes to their left along the steep rise of the northern wall.

"Kili," he whispered.

His brother looked back and Fili pointed toward the sound he had heard. Kili had learned from his last close call, and he nodded. They propped their torches in the trees and, shrouded in darkness, both moved towards the wall on either side of the brush, keeping the step of their heavy boots as quiet as they could. But they could not move silently, and whatever Fili had heard, it heard them as well. It fell silent, warned and waiting.

Kili would have burst in on it alone, but Fili gestured and drew his second sword, holding one in each hand. He was determined that neither orc nor animal would escape him tonight. Kili reached out to pull back the branches.

There was a crash of leaves as a body rose from the bushes, and Fili swung his swords.

"Wait! Stop!" Kili cried, putting out his arm.

From behind them, the torchlight was just enough to show Betta, who stood with bow in hand. She had an arrow fitted to the string and drawn back, aimed at Kili's heart, but she turned her arm aside in time and the dart sailed harmlessly between the two dwarves and away into the trees. Fili was warned by his brother's shout and turned his blade as well. It cut the air to the right of Betta, slicing through branches with a whistling rush.

Kili tossed his sword into the air and gave a cry of relief as he saw alive the woman that he had believed cruelly murdered. He wrapped his arms about her, but she cried out and pushed him away. He saw blood on her right arm from a deep cut. The red torchlight made it difficult to discern wound from unbroken skin. Her face was scraped and smeared with dirt; her coat was torn and her hair disheveled. Behind the bushes in which she had lain hid was a shallow hollow in the stone that she had been small enough to crouch inside. Kili helped her to step out of the brush, and she limped on her right knee.

"You are hurt?" he asked.

"Hardly," Betta muttered, but she winced and let Kili take the bow from her hand.

"Where did you go?" Fili demanded. He had been overcome by surprise, and as glad to see her living as Kili had been, but now he was angry. She was injured, but still carried her weapons; she said nothing to suggest that she had been taken into the trees by force. He now realized that she had not been. "Why did you wander from the camp? There are orcs beneath the trees!"

"I have seen them," Betta answered with more than anger in her voice. It had hurt her arm to bend her bow, but Kili's hand had hurt her more when he pressed her injured side. "If there were any more about, they would have been drawn to your noise by now."

"We killed two by our camp," Kili explained. "And one farther down the ravine." She looked at him, and at his brother, with concern, but he shook his head. "We were not hurt, only you."

"I suppose that is some manner of luck," she said, touching the blood on her arm.

"Well, Fili was scratched," Kili added with a grin.

"Where is the one that cut you?" Fili asked. He was not smiling. "If it was not one of the three we killed, how do you know that it is not still nearby?"

"It is," she said. She pointed her left hand toward a thicket behind the dwarves.

Kili went to look and nearly slipped down a low gully. A dull, broken short-sword lay in the bushes nearby and, looking down, he could see the body of an orc that was smaller than the ones that they had already killed. Kili held up his torch and saw that the orc's head lolled to one side, revealing one of Betta's crudely carved arrows broken off just above its breastbone. There were shallow knife wounds also up and down the orc's neck and chest. It wore no armor, only a thin leather jerkin and rags that were no protection against even Betta's small knife.

If Kili had climbed down into the gully to look close, he suspected that he would find the orc had suffered more from its fall into the trench than from any wound that Betta had inflicted. He did not look close but called back to his brother, "It is dead. She killed it."

He sounded impressed, but Fili was not. "How did you come to be here?" he demanded again. "Does it mean nothing to you that we set a watch? I cannot believe that you are such a fool that you would leave us to be murdered in our sleep! What excuse do you have?"

Betta shook her head and said nothing. She had none that would satisfy him.

"Fili, she could not have known."

"She knew as well as you or I that the wild lands are dangerous," Fili told him. "And I am tired of hearing you defend her faults. It would have been better for the orc to have put its brittle blade in her belly, for I will not trust my life to her again, nor will I risk yours, Kili. Tomorrow, our company will part ways. The woman may go to the dungeons of Angband if she so desires, or back to Gondor where she belongs, but you and I are going home."

Fili turned and stormed off through the trees, not bothering to pass quietly. He cut aside the branches with his sword and cursed in the dwarf-tongue that Betta did not understand, but Kili did and he winced. Fili's torch wound away until it turned a bend in the rock and vanished.

Betta stood still, holding her arm and staring after the departing flame. Kili still stood beside her. "He is angry," he told her. "He will see differently by daylight."

"No, he will not," she said. "He will not, because he is right."

She hung her head and began the slow trek back to the camp. Kili stayed close to her, his ears open for any sound, but he did not believe that there were any more orcs under the trees. If they had not been attracted to Fili's shouting, then they had been frightened off by the prospect of facing an angry dwarf.

It had been a long night, and they had come through it alive, but whether morning would find their company still journeying north together remained yet to be seen.

* * *

**All my readers are so wonderful! Thank you all for your kind comments, and special thanks to Rovalo for her free advertising.**

**-Paint**


	20. Chapter 20

The night was cold and clear. She carried her bow in her hand with an arrow ready on the string. Betta felt at home, alone in the woods. It was not the same home that she had known as a child, the white mountains and flowering fields by the sea; but wild lands and wooded valleys had become her home, and she loved them more than the sweating blacksmith's forges where every surface was painted with black soot and where she had been forced to spend too many afternoons being laughed at by men and dwarves alike.

As she wandered, she had met many woods like this one hidden in the hills of Enedwaith, near the abandoned haven of Lond Daer between Gwathlo and Angren. It seemed a strange thing that nature would put a fair, wooded valley here in the Hills of Evendim and not fill it full of more than squirrels. She smiled to think how proud the dwarves would be when she returned to the camp dragging a deer behind her. It would prove to Kili that her arrows were made well and did not deserve his scorn. Even a rabbit or other small game would be welcome, and then Fili would have to admit that she was not merely an extra burden being dragged behind his pony.

They had only been travelling together for a week, but the dwarves reminded her so much of her own brothers, their stubbornness and their pride, their playfulness and their laughter. Fili and Kili were close and shared a bond of family that reminded her of how much she had lost.

Distracted by her thoughts, Betta was far up the ravine before she noticed the quiet. Certainly the insects and night birds had fallen silent as she approached, but until that moment she had always heard them start up their chatter again after she passed. Now, there was no sound at all. The wind was gone and the trees seemed to be holding their breath.

Betta held her breath as well. She stood still, listening. Above the hills, a thick cloud rolled across the moon and under the trees it became so dark that she could hardly see her hand before her face. The darkness was nothing new to her, but when she heard the soft hiss and felt cold breath against the back of her neck she knew that she had never tasted true fear before.

It landed on her back, knocking her forward and her bow from her hand. That would prove lucky in the end, but in that moment, all she knew was the heavy weight on her back and pain as cold as piercing metal stabbed down into her arm. She did not recognize the harsh, black language that was growled in her ear, but she did not need to understand its speech to know the name of the terror that was upon her in the dark.

She did not scream. In the wild lands, when you travelled alone, a scream could bring more trouble than aid. Instead, she twisted her limbs, snaking her body to one side the way she used to when her brothers would sneak up and tackle her from behind. Like her brothers, the orc was not prepared for it. Its hold on her was broken, and it let go of the knife still stuck in her arm. She flung the creature away.

Betta had her knife in her hand before she knew that she had reached for it. Blind in the dark, she swung her arm until she felt metal cutting flesh, and then she slashed and stabbed, holding off the foul creature as it came at her again and again with cursing squeals of anger. Its face was nearly all in shadow, but the moonlight fell upon its twisted lips and yellow teeth as they snapped above her, seeking a hold on her throat.

She stabbed and felt a stab of pain from the knife in her arm each time until the orc finally retreated. It was small and not used to its prey fighting back with steel. It hissed. She pressed her hands to the ground, planning to push herself to her feet and run, although she had little hope that she could run faster than the long legs of the orc.

As she touched the ground, her hand felt the smooth wood of her father's bow lying in the grass. Her quiver of arrows was still belted around her shoulder, though the belt had twisted and the arrows now hung across her chest. Without thinking, she drew an arrow and prayed that it was not broken. The orc blade in her arm had been cutting her as she moved, widening the wound until its own weight pulled it loose. It fell to the ground as she bent her bow, and she heard it land on a mound of soft earth and leaves with a muffled thud. She felt the blood dripping down her arm too fast and in the sudden silence all that she could hear was her own heart pounding in her chest and the pitter-patter of her blood dripping onto leave like rain. Pain brought tears to her eyes, but she did not need them. Her hand was steady.

The orc screamed, and she aimed for the sound. As she released the arrow, she knew that she had no strength left to shoot again if she missed.

There was a squeal and the crash of branches, the tumbling of stone and then silence. To her right, Betta heard another hiss and the rustling of leaves. She raised her knife but whether it was orc or animal, it had less courage than she did, and it fled into the trees.

Betta stood still, listening to the sound of her blood dripping. It was slower now, and the orcs had gone, but she did not trust that they would not return. She heard shouts from the west, from the camp that she had left unguarded, but there was nothing that she could do for the dwarves that they could not do better themselves. If she ran to them and found them under attack, they would only be forced to defend her as well. She could not help them in a fight. She could not help them at all. She was not used to being responsible for more than her own life.

Feeling sick and light-headed, Betta felt her way in the dark to the northern wall, she found a thicket of brush and pushed through it and felt along the cliff-face until she found a wide, hollow crack in the cold stone. She curled up inside, her body sweating and shaking with pain. She did not know how many orcs there were. If they succeeded in overwhelming the two dwarves, then they would return and sniff her out of her hole.

She closed her eyes and felt the tears slide down her cheeks. The dwarves had been wrong to trust her; she had killed them all.


	21. Chapter 21

It was half past the midnight hour when Betta and Kili emerged from the trees at the mouth of the ravine. Fili had arrived ahead of them at the camp. He had already dragged the body of the headless orc away and rolled it down the hill to join its companion in the shadows, and then he built up the fire. He saw no point in trying to hide themselves any longer as danger seemed to stalk ahead of them rather than behind.

The ponies were still tied up near the cliff, sleeping peacefully; their tails swished lazily back and forth as if nothing had troubled them in the night. And, indeed, nothing had.

Fili sat before the crackling fire with his back against the wall and his sword in his lap. He stared across the camp toward the bodies of the two orcs, and his face was grim and angry. The bodies were many yards away, but the silhouette of their tumbled limbs could just be seen dark against the ground when the clouds thinned and the moonlight grew stronger. He had not been able to find the missing orc head.

Fili said nothing when his brother sat down beside him, and Kili tried in vain to catch his eye. Betta did not try to catch his notice as she limped past them. She said nothing, and Fili frowned but gave no other sign that he saw her.

The night was cold, and Betta wanted only to curl up under her blanket and let the numb rush of fear tremble its way out of her limbs. But she could not. Fili had decided the direction of the next leg of their next journey, and she would not stay another hour where she was not wanted. She took up her old pack that had been with her since happier days in Rohan; and, with her remaining good arm, she began to sort through food and supplies, taking only what she would need for a few days march and weighing how much she would have the strength to carry upon her own back.

In the company of dwarves, she had been taught to take advantage of the strength of their ponies, and her personal things were separated into several bags. But, the animals belonged to the dwarves, and she must leave them behind and carry her own burdens now. Much of the extra food and warm clothing had been purchased and packed by the dwarves, as well, and she was careful to only choose from her own things.

The loss of the pony was some small bit of luck, she supposed, for she would not have been able to brush and saddle him one-handed – even with two good arms, she had struggled with the harness and straps; more often than not, out of exasperation, one of the dwarves had done it for her. Tonight, it was a struggle for her to fold her blankets, and to trade her things from one pack to another with her fingers shaking.

Her body ached, and her wounds burned, especially the deeper cut on her right arm. That wound was hot to the touch and needed tending, but she refused to ask the dwarves for help. Fili had made it clear that he would offer none, and she was ashamed to ask Kili and admit her weakness. In her ears, she could still hear his laughter as he spoke lightly of the orcs that he had killed. When Betta thought of her own clumsy battle, she could not laugh; she was ashamed of the fear that still pounded in her chest even though the orc was dead.

"Where do you mean to go?" Kili asked her.

She did not know. "The ferry over the Lhun is less than a week's walk from here," she said. "I will make for the river and follow it down."

"With wolves and orcs at your heels, I do not think that you will make it there alone."

"I must go somewhere," she said. "And I am used to going my way alone, but I do not fear the wolves." She looked at Fili, but he still stared at the dead orcs. He was not thinking of the night before when they had spoken of dogs and cats rather than fought like them.

Betta shook her head sadly. She gave up folding her blanket, rolled it into a ball and forced it into the overfilled pack. She closed the flap, but could not fasten the buckles. Her fear was wearing off, and as it did, the pain in her arm grew sharp. Her right hand refused to perform the fine manipulations that she ordered it to do.

Kili was right. She had never traveled with an injury before, and it was a rough path down the steep hill to the flatlands. From there, it would take more than luck to see her over the unsheltered plain to the nearest town. The cut was short but deep, and it still bled, although slowly now and only when she moved and broke open the skin again. If her arm was not bound and allowed to heal, she would not have the strength to bend her bow for many days.

Kili had been watching Fili closely. He would not gainsay his older brother's word, not if Fili was determined to take them home. And he was reluctant to ask Betta to stay with them, even for the night, if she did not want to do it; he could hardly blame her for that. But he was not willing to watch her disappear into the darkness. She may not be a dwarf, but they had taken her on as a member of their company and a companion on this journey. In his heart, he saw it as a blow to the honor of Durin's Folk for them to abandon her in the wilderness in addition to abandoning their quest.

"And the pearl?" Kili said suddenly.

Fili heard him and shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he remembered the sea-jewel that he still carried in his pocket. The pearl had been an uncomfortable tension during their ride, although no one had mentioned it aloud since the inn. Kili knew that Fili had guarded it jealously after that, but his brother was also very aware that he had little right to withhold it from Betta.

"What of the pearl?" Kili asked her. "If you leave now, you will be leaving it behind."

Betta hesitated. It was a wrench to give up something that was hers, and that had belonged to her family. She could trace her strongest grievance against Fili back to the moment in the forge of the Ered Luin when he had knowingly taken what was hers and put it into his own pocket, but…

"The pearl is yours," she said. "I give it to you as payment for my failure."

She gave up trying to fasten the buckles on her pack. She had settled her debt with the dwarves, and it was time to leave. An unfastened pack was soon to be the least of her worries. She clenched her jaw and braced herself for the pain of swinging it over her injured arm.

"Why did you leave the camp?" Fili asked her. Both she and Kili looked up to hear him speak. She glanced at Kili, but he only shrugged. He was glad that his brother was speaking again.

"I heard a sound in the trees," Betta answered.

Fili clenched his fist. "This is not the first time that you have heard strange sounds and said nothing of it to your companions."

"It was not the sound of danger," she insisted. "The woods seemed fair to me, and I thought, there may be deer in the thickets. We were all so glad of the squirrels that Kili caught, and I knew that we would want fresh meat when we enter the cold lands."

"You were leaving the camp unguarded. Why did you not wake one of us at least to keep watch while you were gone?"

"How good would it have been to wake hungry in the morning and find meat frying in the pan?" she said. "And if there was no meat, if I found nothing to bring back, then there would be no one but myself to be disappointed." She did not say what else she had thought: that if she had told the dwarves that she heard deer in the ravine, Fili would have sent Kili to hunt for it and not Betta. She held out her hands. "I wanted to be useful."

"Useful! You risked our lives for a bite of venison!" he cried.

"You think that I do not realize my mistake?" she said. "After I was attacked in the woods, I heard orc cries coming from the camp that I had left and…" She looked at Kili and saw his grim face. That hurt her more than Fili's anger. "Yes, I knew the mistake that I had made. It was only luck, indeed, that it was an orc body and not mine that you found dead in the bush tonight. Try to bend your bow and aim an arrow blind and with an orc knife in your arm."

"You would not have had to try it, if you had not left the camp."

"You are right," she agreed.

She reached for her bag, but Kili spoke again to delay her. "Why did you not return to fight beside us, once you knew that there were orcs?" he asked.

She turned her face away. If it was the elder brother who asked that question of her, she would have walked away without giving him answer, but Kili had been kind to her during the handful of days that they travelled together. She did not regret any trouble she might have caused Fili – he deserved every bit of it – but she was unhappy that her pride had put Kili in danger as well.

"I was afraid," she admitted. "I had never seen an orc before tonight and had only heard the tales of their cruelty. I thought they were a story, an exaggeration of the wild men who dwell in the forests and mountains. To be suddenly attacked by one, and nearly killed… When I heard their shouts, I thought that if I made a sound it would bring others to look for me." She shook her head. "I am no warrior. If two dwarves could not stop them, what help would I bring? And… and I was afraid."

"You would not have been afraid, if you had not left the camp," Fili reminded her.

"And I have suffered for that mistake!" she cried, angrily.

"Perhaps not enough!"

"Well, for my part," Kili said, quick to interrupt them, "I am glad of the orcs." They both stared at him in amazement, and he laughed at them.

"You think that it is easy to ride between the two of you all day long while you bicker like children?" he asked, still laughing. "Fili, if you would not apologize for bringing murderous thieves upon us at the inn, then you cannot hold Betta to blame for thinking that a fair, wooded valley sheltered deer rather than orcs under its branches. At the least, you should place some of the blame upon me as well, for I hunted those woods in daylight and found no trace of orc."

Fili opened his mouth to protest, but realized that he had nothing to say. Kili grinned; he was proud that for once he had his brother speechless.

"You should have looked more closely," Fili muttered finally, sullenly.

"Well," Kili went on, "as the one who has been on the receiving end of both of your mistakes, I blame neither of you. This adventure would have been very dull without them. The two of you can fight it out over who will watch the remaining hours of the night, but I have had my excitement and now I wish to sleep. Wake me before we are attacked again, if it is not too much trouble."

With that, Kili stretched himself out upon the ground and closed his eyes; although, this time he did not wrap up in his blankets, and he kept his sword and bow at hand.

Fili frowned across the fire at Betta. She had long since given up trying to pack her bag and now sat silently beside it, lost in dark thoughts and nursing the pain in her arm. She was too proud to wake Kili to ask him to bind it, and Fili knew that she would never ask him. He signed and took up some cloth and a water skin. He rose and walked to her side. It took a moment before she noticed his heavy boots beside her. When she looked up, her expression was confused but clearly she expecting him to continue the fight.

"Sit still," he ordered. He knelt and took hold of her arm.

He was not gentle as he removed her coat and sleeve to clean the wound Dwarf-fashion, the only way he knew how, but the bandages that he wrapped where done well and not too tight. The pain was fresh, but it did not burn the way it had before. There was some hope that the wound might heal without infection, although the scar would be ugly. Fili returned to his place across the fire and sat down. From her history and bearing, he had expected to find scars on her, not many and not severe, but scars. There had been none. Her skin was rough from hard labor, but unbroken as if it were that of a young Dwarf lad who had never seen battle.

"My brother is right," he said. "You cannot go wandering; not until the morning, at least. Stay. Wait and see what daylight brings. Go to sleep, and I will take the watch. There is no more rest in me this night."

Betta did not argue. She lay down, turning on her uninjured side and keeping her eyes on the woods beyond their fire. She knew that she would not sleep, but she was glad not to be walking down the mountainside alone in the dark.

Across the fire, Kili lay awake and listening. He smiled in the dark, proud of his own cleverness.


	22. Chapter 22

Fili did not sleep at all for the remainder of the night. He sat up, watching over their small camp and thinking hard on his duty. He was responsible for his brother that much was clear. Kili lay beside him, sleeping soundly if not so carelessly as he had back in their safe room at Ered Luin. In Thorin's Mountain, there had been no reason for his nephews to sleep with weapons in their hands.

And that was another duty that Fili had to uphold. What would the great Thorin Oakenshield say to hear that his heir had turned tail and fled at the first sight of orcs? They would face goblins, orcs and worse on the journey to Erebor. They would face a dragon at the end of it!

In truth, it was only one of Thorin's nephews who was choosing to run away. Kili would have ridden on if it was his choice to make. It was Kili who had insisted that the thieves west of Lhun had been killed by orcs. Fili had refused to believe the truth in front of his eyes, and Fili had chosen to camp on the very threshold of the orcs' make-shift den in the ravine. At the least, they should have explored the valley and not sat out in the open for all to see.

It seemed that all of Fili's choices had gone wrong since setting out on this journey. Even the choice to stay at an inn on their first night had exposed them to danger. What right did he have to lead their company, except that he was the elder brother? Would it not be more fitting to abdicate the role to the woman who carried the map and purpose of their quest? Kili already seemed more than happy to follow her and take her side against his own brother.

Perhaps Thorin was right, and they should have never left Ered Luin at all.

Across the fire, Betta murmured in her sleep, something in one of the strange dialects of the southern lands that Fili did not recognize. She had lain awake for some time, he knew, before she fell finally into a fitful doze. She tossed and turned, often speaking, sometimes waking only to fall back into sleep. He guessed that her dreams were troubled by the terror of the orc that had attacked her. She had earned her nightmares, Fili told himself, but as the hours wore on and still her sleep was troubled, he could not shake the feeling that he had done wrong by her.

Like Kili, Fili knew that he had been partly at fault for their attack tonight. Even after all the warnings that they had had, he had ignored the danger. If Betta had been a young Dwarf lass looking to prove herself, would he have treated her as harshly?

He took out the pearl from his pocket and looked at it. It was black against the night and seemed a cold thing now, a jewel that he had bought with his anger rather than earned through the honor of his actions. Was any treasure worth so much?

He stared at the pearl until the sun rose and colored the sky above him. It would be another hour before the golden disk peered up above the hilltops of Evendim. Kili began to stir, but Betta slept on. Fili stood up and stretched his aching limbs. He walked to the edge of their camp and looked down the hill at the bodies of the orcs. He decided not to wake the others. There was no point in hurrying toward the parting that he had all but doomed them to.

.

When Kili woke, he looked for his brother and saw him standing many yards from their camp, his yellow hair glowing in the golden light of dawn. He also saw Betta, still sleeping; her hair was dark, and there were shadows on her face.

Kili rose quietly and went to stand beside his brother. "Good morning," he said. He looked down at the bodies of the orcs and wondered where the missing head had rolled off to.

"It is morning," Fili agreed. "How good it is remains to be seen." He looked sideways at his brother and saw the pensive expression on his face. "Do not trouble yourself with thinking, Kili," he said. "I already know what you would say."

"Do you?"

"You will tell me that I was wrong to be angry last night," Fili said. "You will give me many reasons for why I should apologize for my harsh words, and then you will say that we must all three of us go on in search of Betta's treasure. And finally, when you think that you have worn me down, you will tell me that I should stop being so stubborn and trust her. Have I hit near to the mark?"

Kili shrugged. "Not very near," he said.

Fili looked at him in surprise.

"You were not wrong to be angry," Kili told him. "Your words were harsh, but you had reason and I will not fault you for that. Betta does not fault you for your anger, either; but, although she will not admit it, she was hurt by your words. You do not know how sharp you can be, sometimes, especially to those who do not know you well."

Fili said nothing, and Kili sighed. "I will not say that we _must_ go on, but there is no honor in only beginning a quest and giving up halfway. That will not impress Thorin."

Fili frowned and when Kili added nothing more, he asked, "What of the rest? You will not tell me that I should trust your woman and apologize to her?"

"I think that you already trust her more than you care to admit," Kili said. "You have never been over-fond of Men, yet you agreed very quickly to travel with this one and, until now, you have allowed her to take on a third of our watch. You would not be as angry as you were last night if you had never trusted her. You were angry _because_ you trusted, and now you believe that she has betrayed that trust."

Fili looked at Kili with new eyes. "When did you grow so old, little brother?" he asked. He was learning more and more about his brother every day on this journey.

Kili grinned. "Keep it a secret, will you? I cannot be both handsome and wise. It would be too great a burden to bear," he said. "And anyway, if I cannot see past my own brother's airs after seventy-seven years, then I might as well be blind."

His brother smiled. "But I still do not trust Betta," Fili said. "You may believe what you wish, but I have never trusted her on this journey."

"I believe that you are fooling yourself, but you may trust her or not, as you wish. I do not care if you sit up awake all night every night for want of trust in her. I know you, brother. You swore to yourself – and to our uncle – that you would finish this quest and bring home a noble treasure. If you turn your back now, you will spend the rest of your long life knowing that it was your own short temper that got the better of your courage. You have many sleepless nights ahead of you in either case."

"This has nothing to do with my courage," Fili protested.

"Then you will not be too afraid to ride on. With Betta."

"She put your life in danger, Kili."

"_We_ put our lives in danger when we left Ered Luin. If that is why you wish to return, then say it. Admit that it is because of your own fear and no fault of Betta's that you have changed your mind." Kili turned his back, his arms folded across his chest. His brother had always been stubborn, even for a Dwarf, but on this journey, he was taking it to a whole new level of pigheadedness.

Fili frowned at his brother's back. "If I said that I would return to the mountains and she said that she would go on," he said, "would you go back with me? Or, would you ride north with her? You are old enough make up your own mind; you must begin to choose your own path."

Kili turned back to his brother in surprise. "I do not wish to abandon a quest that I have given my word to perform," he said, "but you are my brother. Where you lead, I will follow, even if you lead us empty-handed back to Ered Luin."

The brothers stood silently, each regarding the other for a long while until Kili laughed and slapped Fili on the back. "I will follow you for now, anyway," he said. "I still hold out hope that you will find your wife and crying babe."

"I would hope more for the goodwill of our uncle," Fili said. "I suppose we cannot turn back, if only for fear of confirming his low opinion of our experience."

"And that we cannot do." Kili said, and his expression was grim. "We will go on?"

Fili nodded. "We go on," he said. "If Betta will agree to it; after all, it is still her map that we follow. But I will not apologize."

"Of course not," Kili sighed. "Fine, then. Do not apologize. I will convince her to forgive you. Only be glad that I am so handsome." He combed his fingers through his beard and grinned.

Fili shook his head, but he smiled at his brother. For all the trouble that Kili caused him, and would continue to cause him in the future, Fili loved his little brother and his heart and mind were both comforted to know that Kili would continue to stand with him.


	23. Chapter 23

By the time Betta woke, to sorrow and restlessness, the dwarves had packed up most of the camp. They had waited for her to break their fast, and the food was steaming on the fire. There was last night's stew of potatoes and squirrel meat with dry bread to remind her of the happy night of song and stories that was now shrouded in orcs and fear. As she rose, both dwarves wished her a warm good morning – even Fili, though he did not look her in the eye – and their cheerfulness confused her. Her emotions still ran hot from the night before.

As they sat down to breakfast, Fili said nothing as he handed her a bowl. Betta would have begun their fight anew, but before she could speak, Kili sat down beside her. He assured her that his brother had regretted his hasty decision the night before, and he spoke long and elegantly to persuade her, but she was too tired to hear it. Only at the end did she understood that the dwarves meant to go on and continue their quest, if only she would agree.

Betta knew that Kili very much wanted her to agree, for he had his heart set on completing the adventure and still believed that they were meant to return laden with treasures to Ered Luin. Fili, however, had gone to prepare the ponies and gave no hint at how he felt in the matter except that he had not disagreed with anything that Kili had said.

Betta thought of the long, empty miles behind her, and of Kili's heartfelt plea to go on. The Dwarves had their mountain, but she had no home to return to. "I suppose that we must go on," she said. "The determination of two so sturdy Dwarves should not be gainsaid."

Kili smiled and was glad, but he saw that her eyes were on Fili as she spoke, and he knew that their troubles in that quarter were not yet ended. Betta clung to her grudges as stubbornly as Fili did his. Kili wished that his brother would simply apologize, even if he did not feel the words, but that was not his brother's way.

The dwarves packed up the remainder of the camp, and Kili scattered the ashes of their fire. He covered their tracks as best he could, but they had not been careful the night before and there was no repairing all the marks they had made. Fili saddled Betta's pony and offered his hand to help her mount the animal. Her arm gave her a great deal of pain, but she said nothing of it. Kili was watching them closely, and she was determined not to complain about an injury that was the result of her own foolishness.

"The wind has changed," Kili said, frowning as he stood beside his pony. He marked the movement of the bushes growing high atop Evendim. "It will only grow colder and blow more strongly once we leave the shelter of the hills."

"Then we must hope to make good time before we meet the snow," Fili said. "There is little shelter in the northern lands, and soon I will be beyond my knowledge." He did not say what else he thought, that after Evendim they would be wholly reliant on Betta's map to lead them to their treasure. He did not want his brother to think that his repentance that morning had been only for the sake of possible gold.

They set out late in the morning. Kili rode beside Betta and smiled whenever she looked his way, but she said nothing and did not return his smiles. Eventually he spurred his pony ahead to ride with his brother who was only a little more talkative.

.

As the morning grew old and the end of Emyn Uial marched closer, Kili once again fell back to ride beside Betta. It made her uncomfortable and she wished that he would leave her in peace with her thoughts. She did not know what to say to him, and more than that, she did not know how to interpret Fili's continued silence. He had not said a word to her since they broke camp, but he had twice looked back as they rode, and his face had been stern but not angry.

Kili noticed it, too. "He thinks that you are angry with him," he explained. "I have assured him that you are not, but he will not listen to me. He can be stubborn as a rusted winch, you know."

"I will not beg for his forgiveness," she said.

Kili shook his head. "I do not need to speak of stubbornness to you," he muttered.

Betta regretted her sharp words. _This_ brother had not earned them. "I am sorry that you are caught between us," she said quietly.

Kili opened his mouth to reply, but then he frowned and was quiet for a time, looking ahead at his brother thoughtfully.

"I am sorry, also," she added, "for leaving your camp unguarded. I should not have done so, but I have never been responsible for such things. My brothers were always nearby, and they looked after me. Even when I thought that I wandered alone in the fields, I would always find that at least one of them had followed me in secret to see that I came to no harm." She smiled sadly. "In the wilderness, I have had only myself to guard."

"Fili has always looked out for me," Kili admitted, "even when there was no need. He still thinks that I am too irresponsible and always getting into trouble." He laughed. "In most cases, he would be right."

"You are lucky."

Kili nodded. "I did not used to think on it, but I begin to know it now, more and more." He wished to ask her of her own brothers; her uncles had died bravely in battle, and he guessed that their deaths would make another valiant tale, but he saw that her expression was pained. He thought it was because of her memories, and so he did not ask. He did not realize that the constant rise and fall of the pony she rode was jarring her arm with each step. He did not know that she had not slept that night, that her back was bruised where the orc had knelt on her, and that she was very, very tired.

"You might still have joined us in the battle," he said, lightly changing to softer subjects. "Your knife is sharp, but a bow is as good a weapon as an axe or a sword, if I do say so myself." He patted his bow that was hung beside him on the saddle.

"What help would I have been?"

He thought about it. Not much, he admitted, but there had been only two orcs and not much help had been needed. "If there had been more than two, you might have climbed a tree or hid in the bushes and fired upon our enemy unseen," he suggested.

"And if there were very many more, they would have seen where my arrows had flown from and cornered me, pulled me out of my tree like a bird from the nest that cannot fly," she said. She shook her head. "And then you and your brother would have been burdened with the protection of me. The orcs would have held a hostage to threaten you; although, I do not think that your brother would have put down his weapon only on the condition of my life…"

"And neither would I have done," Kili told her.

She looked at him in dismay, but he laughed. "Neither would we both put down our swords when there is a lady in distress, even if she is not a Dwarf. We would have cut through the ranks of the orcs, hewn them down as they stood until we reached you and boldly wrested you from their grasping hands!" He shook his fist in the air and laughed. Fili heard him and looked back, curiously, but Kili sighed then and shook his head.

"You were right not to come," he told her, "for probably that would have been the most dangerous thing for us all, more dangerous than for you to stay hidden in the woods until it was safe. You were right to do so, and Fili knows it, though he will not admit it."

Betta did not answer, but she felt more at ease and for a moment forgot the pain in her arm. She smiled and said, "In any case, my father always said that I was no proper Lady."

"I have heard of your uncles and your brothers," Kili said, "but you say little of your father. You carry his bow. He was a strong man?"

Betta felt her fists tighten on the reigns. "Yes, he was strong," she said, and nothing else. Kili frowned and searched for other conversation.

"If you wish, I might teach you to use a sword," he offered.

She laughed then, though it hurt to do so. "You would have your work cut out for you, and I would undoubtedly do more harm to myself in the use of it," she said. "No, but my knife is sharp."

"Sharp enough to cut orc," he agreed.

Betta knew that she had killed the orc through accident and luck, not through strength of arms, but she did not know that Kili also knew it. She looked across at him. "You also do not speak of your father. Did you know him well?"

He shook his head. "My brother and I were very young when our father sent us with our mother to live in the mountains of Ered Luin where our uncle, Thorin, her brother, had built up a strong settlement of Dwarves and was carving a new home for them under the mountain.

"In ancient years, before the rising of the sea, Dwarves had dwelt there, but their greatest Halls they had built in Nagrod and Belegost, of them and their loss you have heard in our songs. In the north Blue Mountains, there were only narrow tunnels and small caves that they had abandoned for there was little of value to be delved out of those mountains. Our folk widened the Halls and carved pillars in the stone and our uncle they called their Lord, for he was heir to the throne of… of another Hall that is now lost."

Kili knew that neither Fili nor Thorin would forgive him for naming the Lonely Mountain even if it were only on the edge of another tale. Luckily, Betta was feeling the pain of her arm again and not listening very closely. She did not question him regarding it.

"While Thorin was building his halls in Ered Luin, our family dwelt in the hills of Dunland near to the Misty Mountains. Thorin had dwelt there for a time before my brother and I were born, but in Dunland, the land was poor and there was little work for Dwarves short of coal mining and blacksmithing, as you must have seen…"

Betta nodded. She had seen a little of the Dwarf settlements of Dunland, but it was a wild land and she had not lingered long among its scattered villages and dangerous people. She was not one of the "straw-heads" that the hillmen hated, but their memories were longer than that, and they had little love for any descendant of the Men of Gondor and of the West who had enslaved them and driven them into the woods and away from the coasts many thousands of years ago.

"Our father saved up enough to buy us ponies and a wagon," Kili went on. "He joined my brother, mother and myself to a company of dwarves who were heading north along the Great Road, which was then still a well-used path for many folk. He sent us on ahead and expected to follow us soon after. Years passed, but always there was something new to delay him." Kili chuckled. "I think that he enjoyed his freedom a bit too much once he had rid himself of his proud wife and troublesome sons.

"I was much younger then and could tell you little of those days save the tales that I have been told. Fili, however," Kili nodded ahead to his brother, "he remembers more."

"But your father must come to Ered Luin eventually," Betta asked.

"He came now and again to see his family, but he and Thorin would often quarrel. Our mother was not happy with either of them, and our father would leave again, returning to Dunland. His own people came of that kindred and were not of the folk of Durin. At least, they are not very close kin. Thorin had never approved of his sister's match, and Dis did not approve of her brother's pride."

Kili sighed, but he had seen so little of his father on those visits, and he had been too young to know what he missed. Thorin had been a grim father but a good one, and Fili a devoted brother, and so Kili had spent little sadness on his father's death. The loss of his mother had hit nearer to his heart.

"It is almost twenty years ago now that he has been gone. He often travelled with a small company of dwarves into the mountains to search for new mines, and perhaps to quarry sulfur or even quartz veins in the stone. One day, none of the company returned and after many weeks of searching, his people gave him up for lost.

"Our mother would have gone to look for him, but Thorin held her back. It had taken two years for the news to reach Ered Luin, and he said that there would be no trail to follow. Buried in a collapse, everyone agreed. Or, perhaps, some small band of rogue orcs had escaped the wrath of the Dwarves during the War. It was not uncommon for companies to go missing, and the mountain passes are treacherous. Dis locked herself away and she was sick at heart. Thorin did what he could to nurse her, and she lingered for many years before she succumbed to grief."

Kill fell silent in thought and sadness. Thorin had blamed himself for the death of his sister, even more than he did the death of Frerin or Thrain. Once, in a moment of anger, Fili had said that Thorin was right to be blamed, but he had quickly taken back the words. Kili had not understood at the time, but later he learned how Thorin had disapproved of Dis' match. It was Thrain who had been well-pleased with his daughter's husband. After the loss of Erebor, their grandfather had planned to rebuild the kingdom north of Dunland near the land that was once called Hollin. Only after the great battle, when Moria could not be retaken, did Thorin convince his father and those who would follow them to return to Ered Luin.

Kili wondered if Thorin did not blame himself for all the troubles of their scattered people, for the dragons and the orcs and all of it. He had gone as far west as there was land to walk upon, seeking to outrun the darkness and the memory of the violent assault on Erebor where so many Dwarves had perished. in flame.

"What is the battle that you keep saying?" Betta asked, interrupting Kili's thoughts. "You have mentioned a great battle with the orcs before. And what is Moria? I have heard your brother say that name, but I do not know it."

Kili smiled. It was too long a tale to tell her of all the battles between Gundabad and Gladden, but for the rest of the morning he told her all he knew of the Battle of Azanulbizar where the orcs of Moria had been destroyed in great numbers and his own uncle and cousin had fallen, and where Thorin Oakenshield had earned his great name. Ahead of them, Fili listened and now and then he called back to correct his brother or to add names to the rolls of proud dwarves who had done great deeds there.

It was then that Betta was told what it was to be a Burned Dwarf and of the honor of being close kin to one. She thought that she finally understood Fili's anger on the first day of their journey when she had not known and had treated carelessly the title. Back then, she did not have as much practice in dealing with the pride of Dwarves.

* * *

**So, this was a long chapter... But considering that this whole story was meant to be 15-20 chapters and we're not even half-way through it yet, I don't think anyone should be surprised to learn that whenever I try to "edit" a post, it becomes longer.**

**Fun fact: I average about 8-10 re-writes per chapter before I post them to you. It's a thing I like to call _quality assurance_. So if you find any mistakes, for the love of Iluvatar, let me know!**

**-Paint**


	24. Chapter 24

They stopped for a meal at midday and built no fire though the wind was colder now. Soon they would leave the shelter of the hills. The sky was gray and, although the spirits of the dwarves had been lightened by tales of battle, Betta's mood was dark. It hurt her arm to dismount and then to climb back onto her pony after their rest. Her wounds gave her a great deal of pain, and she was so tired that she found herself drifting to sleep in her saddle until twice Kili had to call out to her, waking her (although he did not know it) and reminding her to stay on the path as her pony strayed or fell behind.

Long before their noon meal, the sharp ridges of Emyn Uial had begun to march down toward the plain, and there were grass and clinging plants still growing up the steep sides of the hills. Then the land grew grim and grey until the cheerful ravine of birch trees was a distant memory. As the afternoon wore on, Betta's pain grew worse. The cold sank into her bones, but she was reluctant to strain her arm in reaching behind her to take the spare cloak out of her bag. If the growing cold bothered the dwarves, they gave no sign of it.

As they approached the northern plains, Fili grew quiet. He kept his eyes ahead. Both dwarves were apprehensive, feeling the change in the ill wind that blew steadily from the east, cold but not yet cruelly so though it came down from the ghost-lands of Carn Dum. Betta did not remember when she saw the first flakes of snow, but before they left the hills, it had begun to fall quite steadily. At first it was invisible against the graying of the sky, but it was white when it landed cold and wet against the dark hair of her pony's neck.

Soon after that that they came to the end of the Emyn Uial. Fili called a halt and they looked out across the long, brown flats and a few low hills that spread into the north and east. Far, far to the west, while the winter air was still very clear, they could see the shadowy rise of the northernmost Blue Mountains that curved east along the coast toward the southern spur of the Icebay of Forochel that was beyond the edge of sight.

With a nod to his brother, Fili led them out of the hills and onto the plain. Almost immediately, the wind picked up and the dusting of snow became large and heavy flakes. The wind swept the flakes up in gusts and blew them into the faces of the travelers, sharp as glass and cold as bitter ice. The change in weather was a shock to Betta who had done nearly all of her wandering in the warm south where winter was little more than cold weather and snow was a grief to gardeners but a joy to the children who slid down hills of it on the lids of cooking pots.

Betta wrapped the reins around her wrists and tucked her cold fingers into her sleeves. Several lengths ahead of her, Fili and Kili pulled their hoods over their heads and bent low against their ponies' warm bodies. They put their shoulders to the wind and rode on into the storm.

.

The cold grew as they rode along, and the ache in Betta's arm deepened. She could no longer hold the reins at all and did not have the strength to steer her pony. The cold that throbbed in her arm had numbed her fingers and her feet. Her breath was a white cloud before her lips and left frost upon her scarf. When she raised her eyes to look ahead, the wind blew cold into her face and the snow flew in her eyes. She pulled up her hood and put down her head, trusting the pony to follow its fellows.

Fili did not like the sudden turn in the weather, but they were now an hour out from the shelter of Evendim and there was no other windbreak in sight unless they should turn back and hide behind the Hills again. That, he refused to do. He glanced aside at Kili and saw the snow gathering in his brother's beard. Kili forced a smile to hearten his brother, but his cheerful spirits had been dampened by the damp snow melting in his boots. Fili turned his face forward again and spurred his pony on.

Here and there, now and again, Fili thought that he would see the shadows of huddled trees through a break in the snow, but always as they drew nearer, he found that it was only one or two boles with baleful branches made to look like more by the wind and distance. If the storm did not let up, they would need to find shelter somewhere. Beside him, Kili muttered under his breath and cursed the icy winds.

Neither dwarf noticed that Betta's pony was falling farther and farther behind them.

.

An hour passed, and the wind blew harder. The cold deepened, and the snow, though it did not gather higher than the top of their ponies' ankles, obscured their sight until they could not see more than a few dozen yards ahead of them. Indeed, the air and ground were such a uniform white that they might have ridden off a cliff and not know it until they hit the ground.

It was only mid-afternoon, but Fili knew that they could not ride on much longer. The ponies were growing stubborn, and they wanted constant urging to keep them moving forward. Some distance ahead, through a brief break in the flurry, he thought he spied a shape darker than any that he had seen before and it stood out against the blowing snow. It seemed to be a square hill or stone. He had been fooled before, but he was determined to make for it this time and even if it be only a single tree-stump, they would camp there and wait out the storm using the ponies for a windbreak.

Fili urged his pony faster. The flat, white land made it difficult to judge the distance, and it was more than half a mile before they reached the shape that he had seen. His first glimpse of had made it seem less than what it was for the snow had half buried it under the gathering drifts. There was indeed shelter in a half-broken stone building so worn by the elements that there was no way to judge its age.

Three walls were all that was left of the old stall that might once have held grain or winter hay. Those walls had their back to the blowing snow and the wind had built up a drift nearly to the top of them, but over the years the earth had risen also to swallow up the outer foundations and inside the walls was a shielded cellar some feet below ground-level, and it was carpeted in only a few inches of snow.

Though the stone had been eroded by the many long years, Fili's eyes could still pick out cuttings on the highest bricks, and he knew that once there had been a wooden roof over the building. The wood had long ago rotted and fallen in to become food for the stunted trees that grew in the protection of the cellar.

Neither pony nor dwarf needed urging to enter the shielded space, and Fili dismounted to lead his pony down between the walls. The animal trotted to the far corner and stood shivering and shaking the snow from its back. Kili entered after him and let his pony stand beside its fellow, and they shivered together.

Kili laughed and threw back his hood, shaking the snow from his back. "Well, if this doesn't make you wish for a mountain over your head, I don't know what will, eh, lass?" he called, turning back and expecting to see Betta trailing in after them.

She did not.

"Betta?" Kili jogged out of the shelter of the stone building and looked around, even climbing up onto its broken walls to peer out into the blinding wind. He saw only white hills and gusting snow.

.

The wind blew hard and the cold deepened. Betta lay low against her pony's back, and she had pulled her hood down nearly to her nose. The wind was so loud in her ears that she did not notice that she no longer heard the clip-clop of the dwarves' ponies walking ahead of hers. The snow had dampened the sound the deeper it gathered.

It seemed like a day had passed, but it was less than an hour before she knew that she could not ride on much farther. It was cold and she was tired, and she had heard stories of men who lived in the mountains and had grown so tired that they lay down and had fallen asleep in the snow. The bitter cold did that to you, sometimes; it made you sleep, so said the men of Gondor, and especially the beacon lighters who dwelt on lonely cliffs for long spans of time and knew the cold like an old friend.

And sometimes – so went the tale – those sleeping men were rescued from the snowdrifts by the folk who dwelt upon Ered Nimrais, a strange people who grew long, white hair upon their backs and blended into the snow. They wore large, furry boots so that they seemed to be more animal than man and would walk into distant villages carrying those poor souls they had found, appearing and disappearing with equal mystery.

More often, though, the men who fell asleep in cold weather were lost. In the spring when the snows melted and drew back to the top of the mountains, they would be found frozen on the ground, still curled up as if in peaceful sleep.

Betta raised her head to call to the dwarves and ask for them to stop. Only then did she see that the brothers were far ahead of her and trotting away swiftly. She saw the silhouette of a single dwarf and pony dark against the swirling snow and guessed that it was Kili. He was thinner and his shoulders less wide than his brother.

"Hurry up," Betta told her pony. She shook the reins to urge it into a trot, and gasped at the pain in her stiff arm. The pony reluctantly trotted ahead for a few yards, and it seemed that they might catch up, but the animal was stiff and cold as well and did not like to be walking through the wet carpet of snow over its feet. It slowed back to a walk and, for all that she tried, she could not convince it to trot again.

She tried to call out for the brothers to wait for her, but the wind took her words and blew them away. Kili's shadow disappeared in a swirl of snow, and she was alone and shivering in the middle of a hard, white land.

The cold was deadly. Fili and Kili could ride on to Angmar if they chose, but Betta could not. She had lost her sense of direction and did not know which way they had turned after Evendim. Her pony was walking slower and slower, and it wasn't long before it gave up altogether and refused to take another step. Betta looked around, left and right; she spied a copse of trees not far away. She managed to dismount, though it was difficult to do with no dwarf to lend her his arm, and with many words of encouragement, she managed to coax her pony forward again toward the chance of shelter.

Luck was with her. The copse she found was not like the others that they had passed. It was, though small, very full of trees that had been sheltered in their growth by a short cliff of stone. She guessed that it was some last finger of Evendim thrust out, but she was too cold to be curious.

Betta led her pony into the trees and in the center of the small grove, she found a wide but shallow hollow of bare ground near a broken alcove in the rock like the washed-out cove in a sea-cliff. Over their heads, the thick-grown trees wove their branches together and met the stone in a low roof that kept off most of the snow. The pony was glad for the change and took its place at the back of the hollow near the stone cliff; it knelt down on the ground and put down its head, exhausted. Betta took a bright blue handkerchief from her pack – the only cloth of real color that she carried – and risked the storm once more to go out and tie it to a branch on the outer ring of trees.

That was all that she could do, knowing that to mark her shelter might bring enemies, but that it was also the only way to let the dwarves know where she lay. Though it was a small flag to fly, both brothers had keen eyes, and Fili was a clever tracker. If they survived the night in whatever shelter that they had found, they would come looking for her by morning.

Back in the hollow, Betta set to work; her injured arm was nearly senseless, and she clutched it to her side whiel her left arm she put to work. With her numb fingers she tore down branches and took the flint-stone out from her pack. She could no longer tell the pain of her wounds from the pain of the cold that burned and numbed at the same time as she sat striking the flint against her blunting-stone. She was so tired and had not known that the cold air alone could hurt a body so badly. As the sparks from her stone fell upon the kindling and failed to light it, she thought of the white-furred folk of Ered Nimrais and of men lying dead in the snow.


	25. Chapter 25

"I can't believe you lost her!" Kili shouted over the rushing wind. A blast of snow blew into his face, and he jumped back down into the shelter sputtering.

"_I_ lost her!?" Fili said. "You were the nearest to her!" He threw a blanket over the ponies that huddled at the back of the half-room. There was no roof to keep the snow off their backs, though there were plenty of short, green saplings sheltered between the walls and they carried rods and fastenings in their baggage. He might have set Kili to work building them a ceiling, if they hadn't been arguing over the woman again.

Fili scowled. "She has been nothing but trouble on this journey! What good is she? And you! You're the one who's been riding with her, chatting so friendly. Why the devil couldn't you tie a rope around her or something!?"

"Why did you push us to ride so quickly when you know that she can barely keep her saddle in good weather?" Kili threw up his hands and would have paced the floor, but there was barely four feet of ground between the horses and the baggage. The quarters were far too close for two cold and angry dwarves.

"I knew those orcs were a bad omen," Fili muttered. "Why did I let you convince me otherwise? We should have turned home when we had the chance."

"It would have been safer for her if we had," Kili said.

Fili looked at his brother and felt the weight of his words. Betta, born on the warm southern coasts, she had not the sturdiness of a Dwarf and was the least able of them all to survive in the winter lands. She was also injured and, though he wouldn't admit it, at their starting-out Fili had given her the youngest and smallest pony. It had seemed fitting at the time since Betta was the smallest body among them, but it also meant that the animal was more likely to stray or to fall prey to foul weather.

Fili looked out into the blowing snow. Already the tracks that Kili had made only moments ago were filling in. He felt a new weight upon his shoulders and knew that he owed a duty to his brother and his uncle, but also to the woman who had agreed to follow his lead on their quest when she could – and would – have refused a dozen times to follow him.

"We cannot ride out to look for her," he said. "The ponies are worn out and not yet used to the cold; I would be surprised if you could force them out of the shelter at all now that they have found it. The wind still blows fierce so that we might walk past her and not see her. We will not help her by losing ourselves."

"So, your solution is to abandon her to the storm?"

Fili frowned. He had bandaged Betta's arm and knew better than his brother the wounds that she bore without complaint; the cut had been deep and would need more than a single tending. Also, Kili was fearless, and he did not understand the power that fear held over those who were not. Kili did not know that Betta had slept fitfully that night and this day would be tired and in pain, but Fili knew and should have remembered.

"We must abandon her to her own luck," he said finally.

Kili scowled and turned his back.

"Betta is no fool," Fili told his brother. He put his hand on his shoulder. "Once she realizes that we have been separated, she will look for shelter to wait out the worst of it and search for us in daylight. It would be better for us to do the same. We will not find her in this storm."

Kili did not argue. He shook off his brother's hand and went to crouch down against the wall near the ponies. Fili sighed and crouched down beside him. The dwarves pulled their cloaks tight around their shoulders and tried to stay warm. Kili shivered and put his head between his knees. He wished for sleep, but all he received were visions of Betta lost and alone. He knew that he should have stayed close to her, especially after the storm began, but he had ridden ahead with his brother. Of course Fili would not think to watch over the woman; he had not wanted to bring her with them in the first place.

Beside him, Kili could feel the tension in his brother's body. Fili was restless and moving, but it was not from the cold; Kili looked over and saw worry on his brother's face that he did not expect. It had been Fili's decision to wait out the storm, but it was Fili who seemed the most impatient to move on.

"Perhaps we should…"

"I tell you, she will have better luck than you or I," Fili said sharply. All of his choices had gone ill on this journey and the choice to leave Betta behind was a bitter one.

Kili did not know his brother's feelings and only heard his harsh words. "What does her luck matter to you?" he said. "You did not want her here in any case. What good is she, you ask! What good are _we_ who abandon her? What good will we be to Thorin when the time comes?" Kili closed his eyes and drew his hood over his head.

Fili looked at his brother in alarm. It was not like Kili to despair.

"Forgive my sharp words, little brother. Kili, I am sorry," he said. "If Thorin were here, he would say the same as I, that the risk is too great. Indeed, I think that he would be more sure than I am in this."

"But if it were you or I lost, he would risk the search," Kili said.

"And if it were Thorin lost, he would _not_ want you or I to risk a search for him when he can look after himself," Fili said. "Betta is not our uncle, but she is stubborn. Think! Do you really believe that your woman, who has come so far over the wild hills, would let a bit of snow destroy her? After killing an orc with her own knife? The foul creature never knew what it was in for. She might have taken its head off with that small blade of hers." Fili forced himself to laugh, trying to cheer his brother.

Kili could not help but smile, although he knew that it was the fall that had killed the orc and not Betta. "I wish that I had known how fierce she was when we spoke at Ered Luin," Kili said. "I told her that I did not think her dangerous and was not afraid to be alone in the wild with her."

"Would you change your answer now?" Fili asked.

"No, but I may not have laughed at her when I said it."

Fili thought back to his own words at Ered Luin when they had first met Betta. He had been certain that she wouldn't make it more than two days in the wild before she begged to be sent home. She might have lasted longer than all of them, if Fili had not forced her to change her ways. He had often heard her muttering over their choice of food, of beasts, of riding on in bad weather with little thought to what lay ahead.

True, she was no warrior, but she had survived an orc attack alone; and, for all the hurt that she had taken in the fight, she had not complained. It was more than the whisper of his honor that told Fili that he would not rest if he did not at least attempt the search for her. She had done nothing to earn the scorn that he had heaped upon her, and they might have been stuck with far worse than Betta on their first adventure… perhaps a grumpy wizard or a soft-bellied hobbit.

Fili's mind was decided, and he stood up. "The storm is lessening," he said, though there was no sign of it. If anything, the wind blew stronger. "Stay and watch the ponies. I will go out and look for her. Will that satisfy you?"

"If anyone should look, it should be me," Kili insisted.

"If anyone should stay with the ponies, it should be you," Fili told him. "I am the better tracker."

"But I have the keener sight."

"And what do you hope to see in all this blowing snow?"

"What do you hope to track with the wind covering any sign of your path?"

Fili frowned. He did not hope to find any tracks at all, but he refused to sit warm in a shelter while his brother wandered blind in the storm.

"I suppose that you have taught me to be hopeful," he said. "I doubted you when you believed that we would find her alive after the orcs attacked, and yet we did. Now you say that she will die if we do not look for her. Do you blame me if I accept your word this time? You know her better than I do, Kili, but it is I who will fetch her for you. Perhaps then you will be able to sit quietly, and I shall get some rest."

Kili opened his mouth to protest, but Fili interrupted him. "I am stronger and quicker than you, little brother, and if that is not enough, then I am older and hardier on a hunt. If either of us has a chance at finding our lost guide, it will be me."

"But…"

"If you would ever do as you are told, do it now!" Fili ordered. "Stay and watch the ponies. Do not search for her or for me until daylight or the storm breaks, whichever comes latest. If you do not find us then, you will return to Thorin. If our company should fail, he will blame me in any case, and I would sooner be blamed for losing myself than for losing you."

Kili looked up and his eyes were wide, but Fili smiled and gripped his brother's arm. "_I_ certainly have not come all this way to be defeated by a little snow," he said. "Undoubtedly, I will find your woman camped out under shelter with a warm fire crackling, and she will be delighted to tell me that I have been a great fool for having gone after her."

With that, Kili argued no more, and Fili wrapped himself up in every cloak and scarf that he had. He carried spare food and a water skin under his clothes.

"Light a fire and do not let the ponies wander," he said. "I will not go far. The ground was rocky half a mile from here. If there is any hill to shelter under that is where she will be." He tightened his belt and put up his hood. He gave his brother one last, long look, and then set off into the wind.


	26. Chapter 26

The air was colder than it had been, but the effort of pushing his way through the storm warmed him more than sitting motionless on a pony or even crouching against a wall with his brother. Not long after Fili left the shelter of the broken hut, the wind did indeed lessen, and he was grateful. The snow fell lighter and the storm died down. He could see farther afield than before but gave up any hope he might have held of finding tracks to follow. Even the prints of his own pony that had passed less than half an hour before were gone without a trace.

Luckily, the snow was not very deep. It was less than four inches deep in most places, though treacherous sink holes lay hidden among the drifts. Here and there was a larger hill of snow blown tall by the wind that rose up and curved in sharp cliffs of ice, but they were rare and only where brush or stone had given the wind a foundation to build on.

Fili turned his path south-west, as he guessed it, for the line of Evendim was invisible behind the curtain of snow and the sun was a dim eye looking down through the clouds. He walked until the fallen hut was only a dark spot on the horizon, and then he turned east, trudging slowly through the snow in as straight a line as he could make. He looked left and right as far as he could for any sign of movement. He did not mean to go out of sight of Kili and the shelter, but after nearly an hour of searching back and forth across the plain, he knew that there was nothing within that space for him to find. He could only hope that Betta and her pony were not buried under one of those tall drifts.

As a last resort, he climbed a low hill and looked out from there. Far away, he spied what he thought was the shadow of trees many yards distant. To go there would take him out of sight of his shelter, and he had seen many tree-shadows that up close had turned into nothing but wind and snow.

His aching body cold and tired, Fili looked back. Kili would have started a fire now and probably had food and warm water waiting. It would be best to return to his brother and warm his body before setting out again… or, more likely, not setting out again until morning. The sun was descending quickly in the west and if he went back now, it would still be nearly nightfall before he arrived. It would be full dark if he waited to set out again after warming and eating and calming Kili's nerves. There was no hope in searching blindly through the night, even under the full moon.

Reluctantly, Fili was about to turn back when a flash of color caught his eye. He shaded his gaze from the dying light and looked down the slow slope of the hill. At the bottom he saw a flag of bright blue, half buried in the snow. With one last look back toward Kili and the shelter, Fili plunged down the snow-covered hill. It rose up behind him, coming between him and his brother, but he pressed on, ignoring the pain in his cold feet and the ache in his arms as he forced a path through the drifts. The snow was deep at the foot of the hill, nearly up to his waist, and cold when he plunged his hands into the bank to draw out… a handkerchief?

It could have come from anywhere. He might even have said that it came out of the dwarves' own bags, only Fili knew that neither he nor his brother carried with them anything so clearly of man-make. The wind might have blown it from a town leagues away, but Fili had promised his brother that he would hold on to hope, and hope he did. He looked ahead at the shadow of trees that he had doubted before, and he saw that it was more than a shadow. With the lessening snow and the nearer distance, he could see that it was almost a small woods several yards across that they had ridden past during the storm.

Fili turned his back to the hill and forced his way through the snow toward the woods. He hoped that the storm was indeed over and not simply gathering its breath for a stronger blow. He chaffed his cold fingers against his cold nose; and, after much effort, he finally stumbled into the trees, falling with his arms around a strong bole. There, beyond the outlying bushes and where the wind could not get at them, were the tracks of a pony leading into the woods.

"Betta!" he shouted, and his voice sounded strange in his ears.

The trees were thicker than he had at first realized. Several yards of growth blocked his path, but he pushed through to the trail that the pony had left and followed it back until he found himself looking down into a shallow bowl of earth under a hollow in a stone wall. Somehow, impossibly, Betta had stumbled onto what was an even better shelter than the impossible stone building that the dwarves had discovered. Her pony knelt against the face of the stone, shivering under its blanket but in good spirits. Huddled next to the pony under cloaks and blankets was a sleeping form that Fili would have recognized anywhere.

"Betta."

He hurried down into the hollow. She had gathered a small pile of twigs and fallen leaves beside her; a flint and a broken stone lay beside it, but whether the wind and wet snow had defeated her, or her own cold hands had failed her, the fire had never been lit. Fili gathered more branches, not hesitating to use his axe on the nearest trees to cut wood wherever it seemed dry enough to burn. Fili could make flame out of dirt and air, his brother had always said, and with Betta's flint and strike-stone, he soon had a strong fire going. He fed into it large branches until there was a roaring blaze as large as he dared to build it with so much kindling nearby.

Night was falling and the moon had not yet risen. Fili thought of his brother, knowing that there was little chance that Kili would obey any order. His patience would soon get the better of him, but at least he would wait until the full moon rose to give him light. The small wood was no more than half a mile from the broken hut and though the low hill stood between them, the wind had died down enough that Fili's tracks in the snow would be clear to see. Kili would have little trouble finding them.

Once he had the fire burning hot, Fili returned to Betta, reluctantly. She had not moved or made a sound since he had arrived, and his heart forebode that he had built the fire for no more than himself and a pony. But this was not the first time that he had thought her dead, and maybe now, too, he would be proved wrong.

He knelt beside her and turned her on her back. He was not surprised to see that she had her knife clutched in her hand, but she made no move to threaten him with it when he laid hand on her. That alone was enough to convince him that she was dead, indeed. Her face was white and there was frost on her brow and eyelashes. Her lips were nearly purple and her skin was cold to the touch.

Fili felt a stab of cold in his heart. He did not relish the thought of leading Kili to the body of a dead woman, even though his brother would never say that it was Fili's fault that she died. But Kili would never forgive him if he gave up so easily. Fili shook her and called her name, but she did not wake. He struck the side of her cheek with his hand and saw the skin turn pink under the force of the blow. She did not move, but he was encouraged and took the knife from her hand; he held the clear metal near to her frozen lips.

There, soft against the blade, a small cloud appeared on the cold steel. She still breathed, and her blood still flowed. Where there was life, there was hope.

"You make a habit of always being more trouble than you are worth," Fili told her, but in his heart he was glad. He drew her body nearer to the fire and quickly set to work.

In their baggage, Fili had packed rods, fastenings and oilcloth that could be made into a shelter in poor weather. Betta's pony carried the oilcloth, but the rods and fastenings were tied to the back of Kili's pony.

The woodcraft of the Dwarves was not good for much more than cutting down trees for firewood; apart from that, they cared little for the processing of lumber. They could build strong and clever braces for the tunnels of mines, and tall frames that clung to the sheer sides of a cavern from which, suspended on rope and chain, their folk could lower themselves down to chip away at the walls of their halls or to carve their pillars. Dwarves seldom went willingly into the woods, and when they did, it was only to travel through them to reach the other side, but they were clever with their axes when there was a need.

Fili had little experience in working wood, but he used what skill he had to cut straight branches from the trees and shape them with his axe and Betta's knife. He used rope, harness and belt to lash the poles to other trees still standing and to fasten them across the small hollow. It was not a frame that would have stood long under the winds of the open plain, but beneath the sheltering boughs, it would do. Fili wished for stone blocks and iron, but this would do.

With the frame finished, Fili took the oilcloth from Betta's baggage and spread it over the top and around the sides, leaving only a small opening in the center top for the smoke of the fire to escape. He added what cloth they could spare from their baggage as well, and the blankets that Betta had wrapped around herself. The hut would hold in the heat from their bodies and from the fire; it would warm them both better than any blanket.

Soon, the shelter grew toasty warm and the snow under it began to melt. Fili had built his fire on a slope, and so the water ran down and away from their camp, but the snow caught in Betta's clothing was melting, too. It soaked into the cloth and was cold and wet against her skin; she shivered. Gently, Fili removed her coat and cloak, taking care not to strain her injured arm. He hung her wet clothes and his own from the frame that he had made so that they might dry. At their backs, outside the shelter, the stone wall rose up and beside it Betta's pony neighed and shook its mane in gladness as it felt the heat that leaked out of the seams of the shelter.

To any wanderer or wild creature of the plains that found them there and looked down into the dell beneath the wall, it would have seemed as if he had stumbled across some primitive hut built of wood and the skin of animals during the youth of Man in the dark days when Beleriand was yet dry under the feet of the Elder Children and Dwarves still labored, their backs unbent and their knees unbowed, as they carved the tall pillars of Khazad-dum.


	27. Chapter 27

As the heat from the fire warmed the shelter around her, Betta began to revive. Her cheeks and lips were red again, and she no longer shivered. When he saw her begin to wake, Fili poured some of the melted snow from the pan into a mug and knelt beside her. He lifted her up and put the cup to her lips.

At the touch of cold water, Betta woke suddenly, weak and disoriented, her mind in confusion. The fear of orcs and other attacks returned to her in a panic. In pain and fear, she swung her arm blindly and her fist struck Fili in the face.

It was a weak blow, but it was unexpected, and he stumbled back, touching his jaw in surprise. He supposed that it was fitting repayment for the slap that he had given her while he was trying to wake her, but he was glad that he had kept her knife in his own belt. After he let go of her arms, her first movement was to reach for the sheath at her back, fumbling for the blade that was not there. Fili stood apart and waited for her to come back to herself.

Betta lay gasping, wide-eyed and staring for several moments, but soon her mind returned to her and she sat up with a start, looking around in surprise. She wondered how she had come to be inside a warmly built shelter with a fire crackling beside her when the last thing that she remembered was snow and cold and bitter wind. Lastly, she looked at Fili, and he saw clearly in her eyes that she was more surprised to see him there than anything else thatwas there.

"Where is Kili?" she asked, the first thing she said, and her voice was raw from swallowing cold air. "Why did he not search for me?"

There was worry in her words, but Fili only heard that he was not wanted. He knew that Kili had been more a friend to her and had shown her more kindness on their journey than he had, but Fili had gone out into a storm to search for her and he was as cold and wet and as tired as she was. She might at least have thanked him for his trouble.

"My brother will be glad to hear that you care so much for him," Fili said with a scowl, "but I am afraid that I must disappoint you. Even if Kili did want you, our uncle would never agree to such an unnatural match."

Betta looked up at him, confused and dismayed; she did not like the implications that he was making even in jest. "I ask only because Kili is impulsive and would risk a nighttime search," she said. She stared down at her hands. "You are far more reasonable. You would wait for the light of morning… if you searched for me at all."

Fili frowned. He was not glad that she still thought him heartless, but hadn't he argued for exactly the plan that she said he would?

"Kili would have searched for you," he told her. "And I would have followed to keep him safe. He wanted to go out as soon as he knew you were missing, but I would not let him. I made him stay with the ponies in the shelter that we found. There's no sense in all three of us being lost in the snow." He felt the echo of his words as he repeated the same argument that he had made to Kili only hours ago. Betta said nothing, but still she looked worried.

"My brother is sheltering as best he can half of a mile from this place," Fili assured her. "It is you that we should worry about tonight. Now that you've ruined your bandage, will you let me come near to change it? Or do you mean to strike at me again?"

She looked down at her arm. Fili had removed her coat, but she still wore the shirt from the night before when she had been attacked by the orc, and the blood-stained sleeve of her right arm had been cut nearly through. The fire against her skin burned with a prickling sensation as it strove against the cold numbness in her arm. The hurt from that battle was so sharp that she felt no other pain, not even from the deep wound under the bandage that had been pulled loose. Blood was beginning to soak through the cloth.

Reluctantly, Betta agreed to let him touch her, and Fili returned to her side not caring whether she took a swing at him again. He took her arm firmly and untied the old bandage. He reminded himself to be gentle and that she was no Dwarf, but he had tended too many of Kili's wounds in this way and was not used to being gentle. His brother usually needed a little extra pain to teach him to be less foolish and more careful in the future.

In any case, Dwarf medicine was not gentle. With boiled snow-water and a clean cloth, Fili scraped away the blood and scab, scrubbing until there were tears in Betta's eyes and the raw flesh was pink. Only once did Betta risk a look down at the wound.

Her mother had taught her little of medicine, but she saw that the angry red swelling and fevered heat that had plagued her the night before were fading. Fili squeezed the thick flesh of her upper arm, and the severed edges of her wound gaped open like a toothless mouth exposing the wet, fatty tissue underneath; it was white and mottled like the raw meat of a plucked goose, and laced with bright red that surged up and out of the cut when he pressed hard with his thumbs. A thin stream of blood and clear fluid dripped down her arm.

Betta looked away, her stomach unsettled by the sight and the pain. She was ashamed to show weakness to a Dwarf, but if Fili saw her pale cheeks, he said nothing. He noted the blood, and that it flowed clean and red with no sign of infection or poisoning, and he was satisfied. On a clean cut, he would have sewn the skin together last night, but if there had been any trace of poison on the orc-blade, that would have been the worst thing to do and he had been forced to wait it out. Now, it was too late for stitches. He had to trust her body to knit itself.

He wiped away the blood and tied on a new bandage with herbs underneath that would encourage the wound to heal. He helped her to change her shirt for one that had both its sleeves and was not stained with blood. The hut was growing very warm from the fire, but he knew from his touch that her skin was still too cold.

He went to the low end of their shelter and took up a lump of snow to wash the blood from his hands. "You heal quickly," he said. "Take more care and that arm should be useful again in a few days."

"It was not very useful before," she said quietly.

Fili would have told her that she was wrong, but he did not want to be accused of lying. He found a dry blanket and put it around her shoulders. He had added more snow and put the pot back by the fire. The water was beginning to boil again, but the only food in his pocket was bread and cheese. He searched Betta's bag but found only more bread, dried fruit, and a packet of herb that he did not recognize.

"It makes a tea," she told him. "I found it near Greyflood and knew it, for my mother used to gather it in the wild fields near our farm. She learned the plant from her grandmother who knew much of the old herb lore."

Fili considered the leaf suspiciously; but, with a shrug, he threw some into the hot water. As it brewed, there was a wholesome smell to it, though he would rather she had thought to bring a packet of coffee instead. Since there was no food to cook, hot tea would be good enough for a drink. He began to split up what they had into bowls.

"What about Kili?" she asked again.

"I left him safe."

"You should go back to him. He will grow impatient and come looking for us both."

"I know that he will," Fili said with a smile. He felt badly for teasing her before. The concern she expressed for his brother was genuine. "I left a path clear to follow," he explained. "And the storm is ended. Perhaps after he has trudged through the cold and the wet as I have, he will learn to keep a better eye on his woman…"

Betta looked away, her cheeks flushed red from more than the warmth of the fire. Fili realized what he had said, and he knew how unkind he had been. Until then, it had only been a goad to his brother to call Betta "his" woman, and he had not thought of how the woman herself would feel to hear him speak of her that way.

"You should have stayed with Kili," she said. "He needs more looking after than I do."

"You think so?" He filled a mug with the herb brew and handed it around to her. "You were nearly frozen solid when I found you, hidden so well in the trees. Do you think that you can wrap up in so many blankets that the winter cold will not reach you? What good are you to us as a guide if you freeze to death? Or, perhaps you think that your ghost will be able to tell us which way to go next."

Betta did not answer. Her fingers were cold against the heat of the mug, and the cold in her stomach made her feel ill so that she could not eat the food he gave her. She was tired, more tired than she had ever been before, and her skin felt raw, as if it had been chaffed by rough cloth until even the heat of the fire hurt her. She wanted to protest, to insist that Fili was wrong and that she would not have frozen to death, but how could she be sure?

She remembered gathering sticks and taking the flint stone out from her pack, but she could not remember when she had given up trying to light the fire. Had she given up? Or, had the cold been so deep into her bones by then that she had turned over and fallen asleep without knowing it? The storm was passed now, but how could she be certain that she would have woken in the morning?

Fili saw the dark thoughts written on her face, and he regretted his sharp words and his pride. It was not this woman that he was angry with, but himself for his single-mindedness on the journey. He sighed and wondered what Thorin would think of him, choosing pity over treasure. And she was not even a Dwarf!

"Forgive me," he said. "I am wrong to blame you for what is beyond your control."

She looked at him in amazement, not knowing how to respond to his apology. He fished through his pocket and took out the pearl. "Here," he said, holding it out to her. "This belongs to you."

She looked at the stone and shook her head. "I gave it to you. It is yours," she said, and refused to take it from him.

Fili sighed and put the pearl back into his pocket. "We must call a peace, you and I," he said. "I do not hope that we can be friends, but we must at least learn to be civil to each other. For Kili's sake. He is probably worried sick tonight, knowing that we are alone together. I have no doubt that he believes we will fight, and that he will find us each dead at the other's throat."

"He would not be wrong to worry about that," Betta agreed. She looked at her knife, still hanging from his belt, and then she sighed. "I don't know why, but he makes me feel old. I know that I am young compared to the long years of your folk, and your brother has lived many, many more years in this world than I have, but it is long since I felt as young and careless as Kili."

"You have suffered more in your few years," Fili said. "You have lost more."

"Kili has been lucky," he said, "there is a difference to it. He lives a charmed life, and that is something that you should be glad of. He is fond of you for some reason that I do not understand, and I wonder if his charm has not protected you. More than once on this journey you should have been dead."

"And you."

Fili agreed. "But I worry that one day the charm will wear off, and then he will know that life is not easy. There are many cares in this world."

"But you will guard him as best you can," she said, smiling. "You are always at his side. Perhaps you are the charm that defends him."

Fili knew that she was trying to encourage him, but he was not cheered by the thought. There may come a day when Kili would have to face his troubles alone, and Fili would not be there to protect him. What then?

"Were all your brothers older than you?" he asked.

She nodded. "All but one," she said.

"And that one?"

Her face was grim and sad. "He died, years ago."

"In battle, like your uncles?"

"No," she said. "Not in battle."

They sat in silence for a long time, and when finally Betta spoke, she offered him her hand. "I will accept your truce," she said, "for the sake of your brother."

Fili laughed and shook his head, but he accepted her hand. "For the sake of yours, I will promise to keep a better eye on you from now on," he said, "and to see that you return to your fair Lebennin still in one piece."

"Say rather until we are all back at Ered Luin," she said, "for if we survive long enough to do that, I do not know whether I will wish to take the long road south again."

Fili frowned, but he did not question her on it. He knew that he and his brother did not look forward to a return to the Blue Mountains only to settle down in peace. If they survived this adventure, it was only to go on to another and more dangerous quest in the future.


	28. Chapter 28

Kili crouched beside the cold, stone wall and stuck his fists under his arms. The ponies were huffing and stomping their hooves, making such a racket that he could not think. He had been in a sour mood ever since Fili had gone out into the storm, and that was almost an hour ago. He still had not built a fire.

"Hardier on a hunt," he muttered. "More stubborn, you mean. And better at leaving me behind when there's fun to be had."

Fili's pony shouldered against the other, and the other shouldered against Kili, knocking him sideways into the snow. He cursed and stood up, slapping his hands against his thighs to warm both.

"And you're no help, either," he told the ponies. "I might have gone with him if you weren't so stubborn."

The ponies paid him no attention. They continued to crunch on dry branches and dead grass that grew in the shelter of the hut. The wind outside made the stones creak and groan. The ground was hard under his feet and the ponies were poor company.

Kili frowned at them and began pulling branches and twigs from the stunted trees. When Fili returned, he would want a fire. And if he brought Betta with him, she would need one. Kili looked out at the swirling snow. The sky was nearly dark, and he was not as optimistic as Fili thought him. He wished that both his brother and Betta were with him and out of the cold. They might make a cheerful feast as they had last night before the orcs attacked and spoiled the mood.

"No orcs this time," he said. As much as he enjoyed cutting orc throats, he knew better than to wish for it. His fingers were cold and he'd rather have a warm meal and to bed.

The wind blew, the stones groaned, and Kili broke sticks over his knee, trying to forget his worry. Then he stopped and stood still, listening. Under the noise of the wind, he thought he heard a call. Or… not a call, but a cry. Thinking that it was his brother, he dropped his sticks and climbed out of the shelter. He stood near the broken wall and looked out, but the bitter wind and snow struck him hard in the face. Fili's words were still in his ears, that they must not all three of them be lost in the storm, and so Kili resisted the urge to run out to his brother. He stood, listening hard.

When the cry came again, cutting through the air like a knife, Kili was glad that he had waited. It was not his brother's voice; no living mouth could make such a sound grief and anger. It struck a chord of fear deep within him that he hadn't known was there. The ponies whinnied and huddled together. Kili's own breath caught in his throat. He stared into the blowing wind and saw shadows, black and torn, hurrying north across the plain.

Kili drew his sword, but he hesitated. What danger was there in shadows? And Fili would kill him if he left the ponies.

The scream came again, carried back to him on the wind, for it had fled with the shadows into the dark lands of the north, and he was glad. The storm was over. The clouds parted and the moon shone white and full as it rose above the eastern horizon. Kili found that he could breathe freely again. The ponies shook their manes; they still shivered but were calmer now that the cries had ceased.

Looking out again, Kili saw that the night was quiet and the snow fell slowly in large flakes. The wind was still cold, but it was no longer bitter. He could make out Fili's tracks, and there might be a chance that Kili could lead the ponies out after him.

"I do not fear the ghosts of Men," he told himself, as he readied the ponies. They were reluctant to go out, but he refused to leave them behind while he went in search of his brother. And he refused to wait another moment in safety while his brother was out there alone.

Kili remembered Thorin's words, that the ghostly wights of Men were of no concern to a Dwarf, but he carried his sword in his hand as he walked out onto the open plain. He would say nothing of what he had seen to Fili. His brother did not believe in ghosts, omens or anything of the kind. Kili had not believed before, but now, he was not so certain.

.

Where Fili and Betta sat, the night was silent around them and the soft sounds of Betta's pony could be heard through the thin wall of the shelter. It was some time before Fili noticed that she had not touched the meal he had prepared for her. He had already finished his and was using a stone to sharpen her knife which he had blunted while cutting the frame for their hut.

"You should eat," he said.

She shook her head. "I cannot. I do not feel well."

"You do not feel well because you have not eaten," he told her. "You swallowed too much cold air and if you wait any longer, your food will be as cold as snow and will do you no good. Eat."

She frowned at him, but did not remind him that the food was already as cold as it would get so long as it sat in the warmth of their shelter. She did as she was told and had to admit that, after the first bite, her stomach settled and she felt less weak, though just as cold.

"Do you always give orders?" she asked him. "It is a wonder your brother puts up with you."

"It is more a wonder that he has put up with you who are not his kin," Fili said. "But if you had grown up with such a headstrong Dwarf for a brother, then you too would learn to order rather than ask. He was even worse as a lad, if you can believe it."

"I think that I can," she said, remembering her own brothers and their mischief as young boys. They had been the torment of her father and had given her mother a number of early grey hairs.

"Almost from the day he was born," Fili went on, "he gave our parents no end of trouble. He would run wild over the hills of Dunland, heedless of the danger. Once he was nearly maimed by a dog that had been abandoned by one of the Hillmen. It had grown wild and taken to stealing sheep and fowl from their farms. It would attack any children of Men who wandered alone and Men had hunted it to no avail.

"Kili only escaped its sharp teeth by climbing into a tree. It was hours before our father found him, of course, and killed the animal. My brother came down cold and hungry and badly bitten, but he also came down laughing and said that the dog was no wolf and it would not have had the stomach for Dwarf."

Fili laughed and shook his head. "He was given a sound beating to teach him not to wander, but our parents knew that he would not learn the lesson. As soon as his bruises healed, our father gave him his first bow and a dozen blunt arrows to use for practice. I told him he'd only put out his eye, but he was really quite good for being so young."

"Kili did not tell me that your father taught him to shoot," she said.

"He need not tell you everything," Fili told her. He ran his thumb along the edge of her knife.

Betta frowned into the fire, and he frowned at her, thoughtfully. He shrugged. "Perhaps he does not remember," he said. "He was very young, only twelve years… perhaps younger." He smiled and shook her own knife at her. "See how much of our meeting you still remember sixty years from now."

"I think that I will remember the first time that I was foolish enough to pull a knife on a Dwarf," she said. She looked at the knife and smiled; but then her face grew grave and she looked at him uncertainly. "May I ask a question?"

He raised an eyebrow. Never before had she spoken with anything near to respect to him, but she did now. He wondered if he shouldn't have done as Kili said and called this truce long ago. "You may ask," he said, "but I may choose not to answer."

He meant it in jest, but she nodded. "Perhaps that is answer enough," she said. "I only wonder at you and your brother. I have dealt with Dwarves in many places, and they have all been sly and secretive. It cost many words and coins to pry even a yes or no from their lips, but you and especially Kili have spoken openly to me… or, more openly than they. Is it a trait only of Durin's Folk?"

Fili frowned at her words. He and his brother _had_ spoken very openly on this journey and, should he hear of it, Thorin would not be pleased. Many of their tales and the songs they had sung were not generally shared with Men or Elves or any other folk of Middle-earth. And only moments ago, Fili himself had told her a very personal tale of his family. In his eagerness to keep secret the name of Erebor, he had let slip many other names that might have gone unspoken.

Betta watched his face closely and with apprehension. She had not brought it up before for fear of cooling what was already a strained relationship. She did not fear that Kili would turn suddenly cold with her, but a word from his brother might silence him, and they would have a dreary distance to ride after that.

"I should not have mentioned it," she said and put down her bowl.

Fili picked it up and put it back in her hands. He gave her a stern look, and she took a mouthful of bread to satisfy him.

"You have been clever," he said. He returned to sharpening her knife, determined to put as fine an edge on it as his skill allowed. "Had I thought of it before tonight, our ride would have been very different. You are right that my brother and I have said much that should not have been overheard by anyone outside of our own people. I cannot even say that you have listened to what you should not, for my brother and I have taken no care to hide our words. Perhaps Kili has been right all along."

"In what way?"

"He says that I have trusted you from the start, and I argued against it saying that I did not. Even now, I would say that I do not, but…" and at that, he gave her a strange look that she could not interpret. Indeed, Fili himself did not know what he would add and he fell silent in thought, his eyes on the work in his hands.

"It is the journey," he said finally. "We have only ever travelled with Dwarves before, and I have always spoken freely with my brother. You are so quiet, always riding behind us until we forget you follow…"

"I am no sneak thief," she said, "not of things nor of words. But if you say that your words should have been secrets, then I swear I will keep them for you. I would offer to forget them, but I do not think that I could. I have enjoyed your stories too much."

He shook his head. "No, do not forget them. Those tales are the pride of Durin's Folk, and your kind live only a short span of years. I will trust to your word that you will not spread our secrets, and more than that, I will not seek to guard my tongue after tonight. We have shed blood together, you and I, even if you were in the trees and I at the camp; they were of the same band of orcs."

Betta's face darkened, and she touched her arm. "I did not kill the orc," she admitted, saying the words aloud for the first time. "I barely managed to flail with my knife, as you so generously have called it. Once the beast was off my back, only then did I shoot an arrow blindly in the dark and it fell down the slope. I think that only the fall and no stroke of mine killed the thing that would have killed me."

Fili watched her intently. He had half suspected as much, that a mere stroke of luck and not the strength of her arm had saved her. "If not for you, one orc more would be stalking Middle-earth, fouling clean lands and putting into danger all the free peoples. If it was luck, then it was good luck, indeed, and you should carry the scar of your first battle with pride."

She looked at him in surprise and with gratitude. "But do not tell Kili," she asked.

"Why not?"

"He thinks that I killed it, and I would not want to disappoint him," she said.

Fili laughed, and then he nodded. "I will aid you in this little lie," he agreed, "but I do not think that my brother would say any differently than I have." He sat forward and stirred up the embers of their fire with a long branch.

"You should tell your brother what else you told me," Betta said.

"What else was that?"

"About your father teaching him to shoot," she said. "If he has forgotten it, then I think that he will be glad to be reminded."

Fili looked up at her in surprised. She could not have seen more than three decades of life in this Middle-earth, but that life had indeed aged her. She saw more clearly than many Dwarves he had met who had lived longer. "I will remind him," he promised.

* * *

**As usual, I write for myself, but I post for you. Thanks for reading.**

**- Paint**


	29. Chapter 29

Betta was dozing lightly when a sound from outside the hut roused her. She sat up and saw that Fili was still sitting beside the fire with no alarm for the noise. A large shadow fell upon the oilcloth and, with a flourish, Kili pushed through the seam and stumbled into the shelter. His shoulders were piled high with snow and his cheeks and nose were red from cold.

It had taken more than an hour for Kili to find them. He had had long work pushing through the snow with two stubborn ponies behind him and no help, and now he stood scowling at his brother and stomping his boots to get the feeling back into his numb toes. He had followed Fili's path easily enough, but the path had been long and had gone round-about before finally reaching the trees under the stone.

"And here I find you, brother," he said, crossing his arms. "Are you quite content sipping tea in warmth and comfort? Ought I not go out and fetch you food and feathers for your pillow tonight?"

Fili grinned up at his brother, unashamed. "I did not think that it would be too hard a task for you to rescue us, brother, with your sharp wit and keen sight," he said. "And if you've brought the feather pillows, let's have them! We shall be warm and comfortable this night. Though, I cannot speak for what tomorrow will bring."

Kili tied the two ponies outside with the other, and then shook the snow out of his cloak before hanging it from the frame to dry in the heat of the fire. He had brought more food, including meat, and they added snow to the pot to cook it while they drank the hot, herbal brew that Fili had made. Soon, the whole hut began to smell deliciously of food and drink and good wood-burning.

Kili was glad of it, and glad that no ghosts seemed to have troubled them, but there was no singing or tale-telling tonight. Betta sat apart from him and his brother as she had every night since their setting out. She had not spoken when he arrived, but he had seen in her face that she was glad to see him. Now, she looked thoughtfully into the hot mug that she held in her cold hands, and she appeared cheerful but tired. Kili looked at his brother, sitting next to him, and he was also silent.

As glad as he was to find that no ghosts had troubled these two, the hut was all too peaceful for Kili's comfort. It was hard to believe that Betta and Fili had sat in silence all this time, but he had no other explanation for why they had not come to blows.

"Are you well?" Kili asked Betta finally, when he could no longer contain his curiosity.

"I am only cold," she said, and she smiled. "Your brother is a fine healer with a good bedside manner."

Kili stared at her, and then he stared at his brother. Fili smiled and filled his pipe from the pouch that Kili had brought; he kept his thoughts to himself. There was no point in worrying his brother by saying that Betta had nearly frozen to death before he found her, or that he himself had nearly given up the search for her… and that she would have frozen if he had.

There was no reason to tell Kili of his truce with the woman, either. The words they had shared were their own, and his brother would find out for himself soon enough. It would be a fine joke to watch Kili struggle to pry free what he had missed. But Fili did not know that Kili was keeping a secret of his own, and that not all of his frowns were made of frustration and a sore temper.

.

Fili took the first watch that night, determined to return to their old routine and with luck break the curse that their company had been under since crossing the Lhun. Soon after their meal, Betta lay down again and was fast asleep. She was too tired for nightmares tonight, but Kili sat up a little longer, sitting beside his brother and breaking twigs. He tossed them into the fire with a dark look on his face.

"What are you brooding on now, Kili? You fill the whole hut with your clouds."

"First rainstorms now snowstorms, what next," Kili muttered. First thieves and orcs, now ghosts, he thought, but kept that thought to himself.

"What next," Fili agreed. "We will take our time setting out in the morning, I think. We could all use a bit of rest after today, and we must ride swiftly and as straight as our path will allow. I do not think there will be another storm, but the snow is here to stay. Farther north, there will be hills again. Until then, our path will be little sheltered from the wind."

"And what path is that?" Kili asked. "Where will it lead us?"

"You know that. We look for the tower on Betta's map."

"And you know that that is not what I meant," Kili said. "In any case, we passed by these trees in the storm. How do we know that we won't pass a broken tower, too? What if we have passed it already? We cannot wander blindly in the northern lands."

"Then we make for the bridge," Fili said. He had hoped that his brother's despair would end now that they were all three together again, but it had not. If anything, he seemed even more worried about their future road. "There are other marks on the map that we might find. Do not worry. I have faith in our guide." He said this looking at Betta. Kili looked, too, and then he looked at his brother. He raised an eyebrow, and the shadow over his thoughts passed away.

"This is a change," he said. "It seems that she is not only _my_ woman, eh, brother."

"She is our guide," Fili said, "that is all."

"That is all," Kili agreed, but he winked.

Fili ignored him. He looked at Betta again, and remembered what she had said and what he had promised. "Kili…" he began, and then he hesitated. He could always talk about anything with his brother; but, because he knew that he always could, there were some things which he never had.

"What do you remember of our father?" Fili asked.

Kili looked at him in surprise. "As much… or, I should say as little, as I ever did. He did not leave much for me to remember him by. Why do you ask this now?"

Fili shook his head. "I only thought… of your bow," he said. It was sitting nearby and he did not dare mention Betta's name and suffer any more winks from his brother. "I suppose the howling of the wind in the trees reminded me of it, of why our father gave you your first bow."

Kili winced. He remembered the dog bites more than the bow. "I am surprised that you ever forgot it," he said. "You never let me forget that he gave me a distance weapon and you your first axe. When we came to Ered Luin, Thorin gave me a sword. 'A bow is for hunting, not battle,' he said. That is what I remember."

"But Thorin is proud of your skill with the bow, and he did not teach you to use your sword. He left that to Balin. Our mother never wanted us tangled up in Thorin's battles," Fili added quietly. "Yet she did not take your sword away."

Kili frowned. He had no memory of his mother saying anything about battle or being anything but proud when he had shown her the plain short sword that Thorin had given him. "What do _you_ remember of our father, then?" he asked, but more earnestly.

"I remember that he taught you to shoot and spent many afternoons showing you how to sight your bow and how to cut a shaft that would fly straight. I remember that he said the bow made you behave and taught you to be patient. And I remember that his eyes were dark like yours, but your kindness comes from our mother."

Fili smiled, and Kili could not help but smile, too, though it was tinged with sadness.

"I don't know where you found your willfulness, however," Fili added. "That is all your own."

"Well, I guess that it is our father in you when you refuse to have any fun and are so serious," Kili said. "And also you have his golden hair that the dwarf women of Ered Luin think is so fine. Although he was never as fond of braids as you are."

Fili laughed, but now Kili looked thoughtful. "I did not remember that he taught me to shoot, though I don't know how I could have forgotten it. That is good to remember," he said quietly to himself.

It was good. Fili did not think that it was enough, but it would have to be good enough for tonight. He had too much else to think on, and this was a conversation for when they were back home, safe and warm. It was a conversation that he and his brother should have had long ago.

He sighed. "Go to sleep," he told Kili. "It will be time for your watch soon enough."

"And what of our guide?" Kili asked. "She thinks that she is well enough to take her watch."

Fili shook his head. "She is not," he said. "Let her sleep and wake me instead. I will take the third watch as well."

"You need your sleep, too, brother," Kili told him, but Fili's jaw was set and he would not change his mind. "Split the night in half, then," Kili said. "We will share it this time, but I will be glad when your woman is taking her fair share again."

Fili knew that he had earned his brother's teasing, but he did not rise to the bait.

Kili laughed, and he lay down near the fire. He had forgotten all about ghosts and was soon fast asleep, dreaming of his younger days when he roamed the hills of Dunland with his brother and shot blunt arrows at the trees.

Fili sat awake while the others slept, and he thought on their next day's ride. The snow was a difficulty that he had foreseen, but not enough. They would need to take care with their food and look out for the ponies as well. There would be more danger than snow on the northern plains.


	30. Chapter 30

Betta had insisted that she be woken for her fair turn at watch, but she was not surprised that the dwarves let her sleep. When she did wake, daylight was shining through the seams of the shelter and morning birds were chirping outside. The fire had died down to glowing embers, but the hut was still warm and one of the brothers – she could not guess which – had taken down her cloak and laid it over her as a blanket.

She sat up, pulling the cloak around and fastening it. There was no sign of Kili, but she saw Fili still bundled up and snoring, only his long nose poking out through the many folds of his hood and blankets. She took up her knife from where it lay beside him and admired the sharpness of the blade; he had done a good job on it.

Betta left the shelter. In the calm after the storm, the morning was quiet and beautiful. The black branches of the trees were draped with white snow, and the sky shone clear and blue where it peeked through from above. The ponies stood behind the shelter, swishing their tails and searching the ground for the grass between lumps of snow.

Her arm ached, but she felt refreshed, and for the first time she looked forward to that morning's ride, even if she did wish that it was through warmer lands.

The snow inside the shelter had almost all been melted away by their fire, but outside there were still several inches, and she could see the tracks from Kili's boots, both fresh and those from last night. She followed them around the shelter until, looking up, she found him standing atop a low ridge that overlooked their hollow. His back was to her, and he was looking up at the stone that they had sheltered under. It was larger than it had seemed at night and under snow, nearly fifteen feet it rose above the ridge; and, in the clear light of day, she could see plainly that it was no natural boulder that they had found.

Upon the ridge, Kili heard footsteps and looked back over his shoulder. He had expected Fili to wake first, and when he saw that it was Betta, he smiled. For all of his brother's talk that the injured woman was the one who needed rest, it was the hearty, elder Dwarf who had slept in that morning. Kili gestured for her to join him up on the ridge. He didn't care who shared in his discovery first, so long as he could be the one to take credit for the finding.

It was a steep climb up the southern slope, and Betta could not use her arm. Kili pulled her up the last few steps.

"You did not wake me for my turn at watch," she said.

He did not answer. "Look," he said, and pointed up at the stone.

Betta looked. There, along the sheer western side of the stone, nearly hidden under years of accumulated dirt and wear, she could see marks that had been cut into the rock with ancient tools. It was too crude to be Dwarf-work, but the hard strokes were not the delicate design of the Elves, either. The stone was not masonry; at least, it was not of any craft that she recognized. She guessed that it had originally been a natural formation that was later shaped by human hands.

"A Dwarf would know stonework better than I," Betta said. "What does it look like to you?"

Kili reached up high, but he could not touch the cuttings. They were far up on the stone, near to the broken heights. "It is old," he said, "and like nothing that I have seen before. I would guess that it is some primitive work of Men from long ago. As to the cuttings, those are not as old as the shaping of the stone, but reading the letters is your job here. I cannot speak to what they say.

"I have walked all around this stone and seen the shape of it. I believe that it is the remains of a cornerstone, to a castle or… perhaps a tower?"

"You say my job is to read the letters, but there is no more than one or two that I can make out," she said. "It is the same writing that is on our map…"

"And what does your map say, then?" he asked.

She always carried the pages folded in leather close to her skin. She took them out now and turned over the page that had marked on it the tower they looked for. Holding it up to compare the writing, Betta looked at the page, but Kili looked at her. The marks on the map meant nothing to him.

"The letters on the wall, I believe, are… nk… r…," she said. "And the tower on the map is called Ankor. Unless Dwarves can climb sheer stone to clear away the debris, I cannot say for certain, but…" She said in disbelief, "By chance, we have come to the very place."

Kili shook his head. "I think that there is more than chance in this unlooked for meeting," he said, looking up at the stone again

"We would have passed it in the storm. We did pass it, and only this," she gestured to her bandaged arm, "and my own clumsiness brought us here at all. If that is not chance, then I do not know the meaning of the word."

"Perhaps, but this was once the land of your people, was it not? Myself, I am not surprised that the very wind and snow would speak to you and bring you to your home. I have seen you speak to trees before."

"But they have never spoken back to me," she said.

Kili shrugged. "My brother does not believe in chance or the omens of dream and sky, but I am not so certain." He frowned and ran his fingers over the cold stone wall. He thought of the ghosts of the Men who had shaped the stone, and he thought of the ghosts that haunted Thorin, driving him on towards Erebor.

"If it is indeed time to return to the Mountain, it will be more than chance that brings us there," he said quietly to himself.

"What Mountain is that?" Betta asked. She was surprised to hear words of omen coming from the younger brother, or from either brother in fact. But the journey was changing them. She wondered if it had changed her as well.

"It is nothing," Kili said quickly. "We should go back. Fili wanted to sleep late, but he will not forgive us if we waste a morning because of him."

They made their way back down into the hollow, with Kili helping Betta down the steep slope. Fili was awake when they returned, and grumbling that they had not woken him sooner. They ate a meager breakfast that morning, saving their rations for colder days, and then the dwarves packed up the shelter while Betta stood with the ponies and felt useless.

Before they rode out, Fili insisted on looking all around the stone. He did not see anything more than Kili, but both brothers agreed that it was most likely the southwest corner watchtower of an old guard wall. It bore the same cuttings that Fili had seen on the stone hut, and he guessed that the main body of the wall would have also been built of wood and so would have rotted away. There should be three more cornerstones on the plains, but they did not need to look for them.

They led their ponies out of the trees and onto the plains. The sun was rising bright in the cloudless sky and would melt some of the snow away, but not all. The dwarves talked cheerfully as they rode along, and Fili felt that their journey had taken a turn for the better. He kept a careful eye on Betta, determined not to let her fall behind again, but that did not mean that he missed the knowing winks that Kili tossed his way. Whatever dark mood had haunted his brother's thoughts last night seemed to have been banished by the morning light.

.

The northernmost hills of Emyn Uial had faded away behind them, but that was not the end of their reach. Twenty miles further north, the same rocks that had stretched upwards toward the sky now sank below the earth creating a span of treacherous ground cut through with ravine and shallow valleys, steep drops and even steeper climbs out of them. Old stories told that the delves in the earth had been made by the cracking cold of Utumno itself, but there had been more than one dark lord to dwelt in the north since His overthrow, and not all barren lands were of His making.

Whatever its origin, the stretch of tortured land was only a few leagues wide and little more than twice that long, but to navigate those gorges and gullies, canyons and chasms, was a fool's errand, and it would have taken them out of their way – even if they had known for certain which way that was.

After they passed the remains of Ankor, Fili led them north until they were in sight of the rocky valleys, then he turned them east to skirt the southern edge of the rent plains. They would turn northeast again once they passed them.

In the cheerful light of day, Fili was confident that he could lead their small company through the softly rolling hills of northern Eriador, even though he had only dim memories of his journey there with Gloin many years ago. His mind was not troubled with that leg of their journey. What worried him was that they were fast approaching lands that had once been under the sway of the dark powers and, though there had been no reports of them in recent years, if there were any part of the western lands were orcs could dwell in number, it was in the haunted north at the fallen fortress of Carn Dum.

Fili frowned as he looked ahead, counting their strength against an unseen multitude of orcs. Two Dwarves and a one-armed woman would not last long if it came to that.

Kili was untroubled by thoughts of orcs or of ghosts. Although, now and again, his thoughts were darkened by the wind that howled in his hears, his eyes turned less to the north and more often to the east where, beyond sight and hidden behind the easternmost mountains of Angmar, was the desolate Dwarf-kingdom of old, Mount Gundabad, that was a holy name and the root of all the other, grander tales of the Dwarves of Durin.

Abandoned since the second sacking when the Dwarves had cleansed it of the foul orcs that had stolen it, Kili had not thought much on that lost kingdom. In his youth, he had been more interested in tales of the Lonely Mountain of Erebor or of the more famous chasms of Kazad-dum. It was on the threshold of the Dimrill Dale, in Azanulbizar, that Thorin had earned his great name Oakenshield, and that Dain had been called Ironfoot. Though the battles that had come before it had been important, the history behind them belonged to old Dwarves with their gray beards and not to the young.

Now that they traveled nearer to the northern kingdom, Kili wondered what grand halls had been carved there, before the orcs had ruined them. Were they huge and filled with light, as had been the halls of Kazad-dum? Did they once echo with the music of falling hammers and falling water as in Nogrod when its stone fountains still sang in the deeps? What mines of gold and precious stone were delved beneath the earth before they were filled-in with the filth of foul creatures?

There was no hidden treasure in Mount Gundabad; the orcs had plundered it long ago.

And as his thoughts drew back into the ancient tales, Kili remembered how the seven Fathers of the Dwarves had been laid to sleep each in his own mountain and each with his own partner to lie beside him. All save Durin Deathless who had been laid in Gundabad alone, and he had woken alone and explored the misty peaks of Hithaeglir, alone. Kili thought of Thorin, who was a descendant of Durin, pacing alone in the cold hall at Ered Luin. And finally, not knowing why, Kili looked at his brother, at Fili who was so much like his uncle in mind but not in heart. At least Fili would not be alone, when he had his brother beside him.

Betta knew nothing of Mount Gundabad or of the great and bloody history of that holy city. The dwarves had not mentioned it on their journey, and the northern mountains meant as little to her as the southern coasts did to Kili who stared at her blankly when she spoke of the Sea. She gave only a passing thought to the fortress of Carn Dum, for her thoughts were on a different land in the north, on the haunted plains before the mountains of Angmar. Their path would wind east around the stone valleys and then turn north to the dry riverbed and bridge that Fili knew.

After the bridge, it would be Betta's turn once more to guide them on the winding road, and she felt a shadow on her heart as she thought of it. She knew her map better than the two dwarves she traveled with, and she had not yet told them that it drew up very near to the haunted realm of the Witch-king, which was a dark land in any tale. She had not told the dwarves that, although their map led them to the boarders of Angmar, the path stopped there and seemed to go no farther.

* * *

**Well, I hate to break the news, but with Spring here now, like any good Hobbit, I will be spending much more time in my garden. Until the earth is turned and the seeds planted, I may not be able to make my twice-a-week schedule. You'll still get once-a-week chapter updates, and with luck and good weather, we'll be back on track by the end of the month.**

**Wishing you lots of sunshine and soft morning rain,**

**-Paint**


	31. Chapter 31

It was an hour past midday and the second day since they left the tower of Ankor. The sun was bright and the air cool, but the snow had not melted as they rode along, and the fluffy blanket of white that had appeared so picturesque as they looked out from the copse of trees, warm and fresh from a long sleep, now hid any ground sign that Fili might have read.

They had ridden slowly yesterday to ease Betta's injured arm, and it had taken them all day to reach the end of the broken land. Last night, they had camped below the stretch of stone ravines, and by noon this day, they had come to the end of the rent land and passed on into the softly rolling hills of upper Eriador that was once a part of the lost realm of Arnor.

For his part, Fili was glad of the extra time they had taken. He looked out across the white hills and was no longer confident that he could find the bridge they looked for. The slow ride the day before had bought him time to recall to mind the journey he had taken with Gloin. It was the only time that he had been in these lands, but then it had been summer and the ground was bare. In winter, every hill they passed, Fili wondered if it was no hill at all but a drift of snow that hid the stonework he looked for. He wished that he had marked the path better the last time he had wandered here, but thirty years ago, he had not known that he would return.

For the second day, Fili kept their ride slow. He did not want to risk missing any landmark that might jog his memory, but even the slow ride was a trial to him. For every day that passed, he counted against the time that they had to return to Ered Luin.

Two months at the most, Thorin had said he would wait, at least until Balin returned and Tharkun arrived to give council. Once his plans were laid, there would be no delay; Thorin would want to set off for Erebor whether Fili and Kili went with him or not. In his heart, Fili could not believe that their uncle would leave without knowing that his nephews were safe, but the choice would be bitter, his kin or the kingdom of his fathers.

It was not a choice that Fili wished to put before his already unhappy uncle.

Pulling his pony to a halt at the rise of a low ridge, Fili raised his hand to shield his eyes. He was beginning to understand the tales that the old Dwarves told of snow-blindness. The sun reflected off the glaring white and burned his eyes, but he stared into it. They could not wander the land forever, and the best place to spot the riverbed would be near to the eastern side of the valley where it first emerged.

"Come on, then," Kili muttered, and spurred his pony forward again.

Fili sighed and followed him. His brother had been anxious all day and the night before, but Fili did not know why. Today, Kili had spent the morning riding swiftly ahead of them only to turn round and ride back or to be force to wait until they caught up with him. He complained loudly that Fili was deliberately dragging his heels, but he never once laid the blame on Betta's shoulders, even if she was the partly the cause for their slow pace.

Fili did not point this out. Betta had been too quiet lately, and last night she had spent hours staring silently down at the map spread on her knees. She spoke little, and he did not pry. Since their truce, there had not yet been a fight between them, and he wanted the peace to last.

Kili spoke to him, and Fili nodded, but he was looking out across the wide hills at the vast sea of snow that surrounded them, full of white-capped waves.

"Do you hear me?" Kili asked, raising his voice.

Fili frowned. Betta was ridding too far behind for her to be the intended hearer. "Yes, of course I hear you," he said.

Kili shook his head. "I won't bother to ask you to repeat what I have been saying as I know that you did _not_ hear. I said that we should have searched the ravine for an orc camp when we had the chance. There may have been food, and I am hungry for a change from watery stew and dry bread."

"Not even your hunger would be strong enough to stomach orc meat," Fili said. "If you want meat, then you should have hunted better than squirrels." He pulled short his pony again and stood up in his saddle to look ahead. "Does that look like stonework to your eyes?" he asked, pointing to an odd-shaped hill.

"No," Kili said, not bothering to look, "and neither did the last drift of snow. Why are we worrying over a lost bridge now? Don't we know which way to go from here? North and to the east."

Fili sighed, for this was not the first time his brother had said that or something like it. And it was not the first time that he had explained, "The barren lands are wide, my brother. Many leagues lie between us and the northern bay, and twice as many between that and the mountains of Angmar. We could wander for a year and find no sign of any treasure, so stop your complaining and open your eyes."

"My eyes _are_ open!"

Kili spurred his pony on ahead and left his brother behind. Fili frowned at him but did not rush to follow. Kili would not go farther than the next ridge; he had not ridden out of sight of Betta all that day or the last.

Fili did not know the reason for his brother's impatience any more than he knew the reason for Betta's ongiong silence – although he could guess at both and probably would hit near the mark. He wished that they were riding behind him and talking together, amusing each other as they had done in the past and leaving him in peace to think.

A sudden shout broke through his thoughts. Ahead of him, Fili saw Kili's pony stumble down and disappear as it fell, taking its rider with it. They vanished from sight, buried under the snow.

"Kili!"

Fili rode forward but stopped his pony before it, too, could fall into whatever gap was hidden there. He saw a slope in the ground and the tracks through the snow showed where the pony had fallen. The hidden drop seemed to be a wide, shallow trench cut into the ground that had been filled in by the storm's blowing snow. It was one last and treacherous ravine shot out from the rent lands that he thought they had given wide berth.

He saw Kili's pony lying perhaps five feet below the level of the ground, half buried; it was on its side and kicking its legs as it struggled to find footing in the deep, soft white. It cried out as it struggled, and most of the baggage that had been tied to its back lay scattered from the fall. Some of the heavier bundles of wood were still tied to it and weighing it down.

There was no sign of Kili, and Fili was afraid that his brother lay crushed under the animal. The pony had not fallen far before the snow caught and held it, but the more it kicked and rolled, the better chance it would injure itself or his brother.

Fili jumped down from his pony just as Betta rode up beside him. He threw her the reins. "Don't let the animals fall in," he called to her.

"Be careful," she said, as she looked down into the trench. She took his pony and rode back from the edge to a safe distance but still close.

Speaking gentle words to the frightened pony, Fili approached the trench and found that the slope was not as steep as he had feared. The snow was hard-packed in many places. Only the weight of the pony, and the fact that its rider had been too distracted to look before blundering into it, had caused Kili to fall. They might have forded the gap and walked their ponies across with only a little difficultly. A large man on foot carrying only his own weight could have crossed it and never known what he passed.

"Kili!"

Hurriedly, but cautiously, Fili forced a path for himself through the snow and climbed down the slope. He made his way to the pony, still speaking softly, and the animal grew calmer. The drifts around it were churned up from its movements, and that made it easier for Fili to dig out as much as he could.

Even so, he was hot and sweating by the time he was able to cut free the bags that were still tied to the pony and to help it drag itself to its feet. The animal shook the snow from its back and with a cry of gladness, pulled itself up the slope.

Once the pony was on solid ground again and free of the trench, it heard the call of its fellows and eagerly trotted towards them. Betta took hold of the reins for that animal as well, but she looked toward Fili, anxiously.

"Where is he?" she called, and the worry was plain in her voice.

Fili did not answer. It was good luck that the snow, though firm, was also soft in many places and the pony had taken no real hurt from its fall. The animal escaped with no broken bones. Fili hoped that his brother had been as lucky.

He pushed aside the fallen baggage and dug down into the snow. There was a sunken hole beneath where the animal had lain, and the snow was softer and easy to thrust his hands through into the depths. He felt blindly through the drift until he found a familiar elbow and pulled.

There must have been a sinkhole of sorts, some pocket of air in the snow that Kili had fallen into that had saved him from the weight of the pony landing on top of him. He was bruised but not injured. He came up sputtering, his mouth and eyes full of cold snow; he shook himself just as the pony had, and let out a gasp and a shout.

"What devilry is this!" His head and shoulders bore a covering several inches thick and his hood and pockets were full of the stuff. His beard was stuck full of it, and he was so comical, still half-buried, shivering and angry, covered in white that Fili laughed with relief.

"Did I not tell you to keep your eyes open, brother," he said. "Next time you will listen to me!"

"You were meant to be our leader," Kili said. "Better than open eyes would be a lookout who gives fair warning of trouble."

"Then you must learn to follow your leader," Fili told him, "and not keep riding on ahead of him. You were the one eager to look forward."

The dwarves pulled themselves out of the snow and climbed up onto land again. Betta laughed gladly to see them both safe and whole. She offered Kili a handkerchief, and he took it to wipe his face and beard. Fili looked around and, now that his eyes had been opened to it, he saw that the shadow of the trench was not only a ravine from the western land. It was a long line that wound out from the valleys, passed to the north of them and headed east in a wide loop. He knew from his last journey here that the dry riverbed would eventually wind south toward the North Downs, but before it did, they would find the stone bridge.

"Good luck, brother!" Fili said, clapping Kili on the back with his hand. "You have found our riverbed. And there," he pointed to the north, "we will find our bridge! I would bet all of Betta's fine treasure that we cross it before nightfall."

"Bet your own share," Kili said. He was not as excited as his brother. The snow had filled more than his hood. It had poured down his back and into his coat. He sat shivering on his pony and feeling the ache of his bruises. It was long before either Betta or Fili could get him to say anything. He rode sullen and silent, except when he complained of the cold, and it did not help his mood that Fili continued to laugh at him.


	32. Chapter 32

They reached the bridge in the early evening. Fili climbed down from his pony and brushed back the snow with his hands to look at the stonework, refreshing the memories of his youth. He said, and Kili grudgingly agreed, that it was similar workmanship to the stone of Ankor, and to the ruined hut that the dwarves had sheltered under the night before.

They crossed the bridge one at a time, leading their ponies; Fili insisted on crossing first. He wasn't certain that the stones that had gone untended for many hundreds of years would still bear their weight, but there was no sign of weakness in the bridge except for the cracks and loose bricks along the guard rails on either side. The middle-path was firm.

Once they reached the north side and stepped over the threshold of the bridge onto land, Betta shivered. She felt as if a veil had been drawn before her eyes and a gray mist lay over her sight. She blinked and shook her head, and it was gone. Neither dwarf seemed to notice any change, and so she said nothing. She was still tired and her arm still pained her; she thought it must have been only a spell of lightheadedness. They rode on, up a hill until they were many yards distant from the bridge.

There, Kili had a strange feeling of being watched, and he looked back toward the southern land that they had left. The sky was growing dark as the sun fell, and perhaps it was only a trick of the light that caused him to see movement, as if a crouched figure had run across the bridge behind them.

He checked his pony and turned to get a better look.

"What do you see?" Fili called back to him. Betta, too, stopped and turned.

Kili frowned and shielded his eyes from the evening light, but there was no sign of anything now upon the bridge. "I thought I saw…" He shook his head. "No, it was nothing."

"What did you see?" Fili rode back to sit beside his brother and peered down at the bridge.

"I thought I saw a creature, something small and dark, cross between the two posts upon the far side," Kili said.

"An orc?"

He shook his head. "No… I do not think so…" He frowned, but now his mind was not so clear. He had long since convinced himself that the ghosts from two nights ago had been nothing more than his worry and his hunger playing tricks with his sight. "It was probably only the shadow of a cloud passing over the sun."

Fili and Betta both looked up; there were no clouds in the sky that day. Fili was skeptical, but Betta looked thoughtful and Kili saw her pass a hand over her eyes.

"Even so, I will have a look," Fili decided. "It is better to waste five minutes chasing shadows than to be followed by orc or wolf into the night."

"I'm sure that it was nothing," Kili insisted, but Fili was already riding back toward the bridge.

"He is very good at going his own way," Betta said.

Kili was less than pleased. "One day he will go his own way into trouble, and who will get him out of it then?" he muttered.

"You?"

He shook his head. "I am the one who gets us into trouble. He is meant to get us out."

"Things change."

They watched as Fili returned to the bridge. He dismounted and crossed to the other side. For a moment, he was out of sight behind the stone, and then he reappeared and paced the ground, searching for tracks among their scattered trail of hoof and boot.

It was not long before he returned, and there was little news to report. "There are no tracks but our own," he said. "Some old crows have built a nest under one of the eaves. Probably you saw one fly between the posts. From this distance, it would be an easy mistake to make."

"I said that it was nothing," Kili said. He thought that his brother was again trying to prove who had the keener sight. It was bad enough that Kili had begun to doubt his own senses, to have his brother doubting him was worse.

They rode on, but now Kili rode behind Fili, frowning at his brother's back. Betta rode with him, and she too was frowning. "Do you think that it was only a shadow?" she asked him. "What do you say you saw there?"

"You heard what my brother said," he told her. "It was only a bird. Or do you doubt me as well? Then both of you will believe that I am too excitable to be trusted and, like my brother, you will second guess everything that I say or see. It is good that you get along so well with him."

"I do not second guess you," she said. "I only ask, for I do _not_ think that it was a bird." She frowned at Fili's back and, though he was far ahead and would not have heard, she lowered her voice to say, "When I journeyed north through Enedwaith, I stayed two nights in the ruins of Tharbad upon the river Gwathlo," she said. "There are things in this world that men do not speak of..."

Kili looked at her. Her face was pale and her eyes dark under her brow, but he was not yet ready to admit to what he had seen. It was a comfort to him, however, to know that she understood his misgivings in a way that Fili could not.

"We will think no more dark thoughts," he told her. "We must remember what we are riding towards."

"And what is that?" she asked. She thought of Angmar ahead of them and shivered.

But Kili smiled. "We ride to _treasure_!" he said, laughing.

Yes, to treasure," Betta agreed. It was not what she had meant, but it was the first time that she had seen him smile that day and there were few who could stand in the way of Kili's good mood. "What will you do with your share?" she asked him.

Riding ahead, Fili looked back and was relieved to see his brother talking and smiling again. After they had crossed the bridge, the land had seemed to change. It was a darker place now, or perhaps it was only that they were riding farther from Ered Luin. The days grew shorter as you traveled north, he knew, and when he had travelled with Gloin, they had not crossed the bridge. They had journeyed east along the line of the dry river for a few leagues, then camped and eventually turned south toward the North Downs.

As he thought back on it, Fili realized that Gloin had been very careful to keep his distance from the bridge and, when Fili himself had approached to examine the stonework, Gloin had been anxious but had not stopped him.

It was an odd superstition, but one that Fili only now remembered as he looked back and thought that he, too, saw a shape that may or may not have been a very large, old bird, perched upon the far post of the bridge.

.

They left the riverbed behind and, turning north again, came to a steep hill about half a mile from the bridge. There they stopped, sheltered from the wind, for Kili refused to move again until he had dried out his clothes and warmed his hands with a fire. By then, it was too late to go farther for the sun had fallen swiftly below the horizon. Fili said that they would not move on that night, but would make camp and ride out in the early morning.

Kili continued to grumble even after the fire had been built. He was beginning to feel the hurt from his fall and, though Fili looked over the bruises, there was nothing to heal them but time.

The air had turned cold, but there was no sign of any storm to trouble them. The ground was hard and flat where they stood under the lee of the hill, but the land was rising steadily toward the east where it drew near to Carn Dum and the Mountains of Angmar. They were seven days long ride from that black land, but already the shadow was growing on their hearts.

They were all cold that night, for Fili refused to let them build the shelter that they carried. He thought it better that they should be able to watch the land around them while they had a moon to see by. And though they carried wood from the copse near Ankor, they burned only what they needed to cook their food and warm their hands before covering over the embers. There were few trees in the northern land, and their supply of wood would not last long. There would be many cold nights in the future if they found no more to cut.

Sitting around the embers, wrapped up in their blankets, Fili knew that the spirits of his company were low, but he did not know how to cheer them. He had no more stories to tell, and he was reluctant to sing, for there was something strange in this land, a watchful silence that he did not like; although, it did not feel evil… not yet.

Betta did not take out her map that night. She sat silently, staring at the covered embers and, now and again, Fili would see her reach her hand into her coat to touch the leather envelope that carried her pages, and then her face was dark and anxious.

"Some adventure this has become," Kili said. "I can see why Durin would go south when he woke. I am tired of this cold, and snow is only pretty on a warm morning when you need not go blundering through it."

"It will grow colder as we go farther north," Fili said. "You had better grow a thicker skin."

"I only hope that Thorin will not wish to take the northern road when we go east."

"What northern road?" Betta asked.

Fili gave his brother a sharp look, but Kili only shrugged. It had been said, and he could not take it back even if he wanted to.

"I thought your people did not travel in the north lands," she said. "That is what you told me when first we met."

"There is a northern road," Fili admitted, "but dwarves seldom use it these days. Certainly, neither my brother nor I have been farther north that the bridge that we have already crossed. Forodwaith is more dangerous than the crossings of Hithaeglir even now that the orcs are multiplying in those hills."

"Where is your road, then?" she asked.

Fili sighed, but there was no harm in telling her that. "Between Angmar and Hithaeglir it passes and then runs along the northern passes of Ered Mithrin which stretch into the east to the Withered Heath. There was once great commerce between the Blue Mountains and the Gray. Many dwarves dwelt there and they gathered riches to themselves, but the dragons came and raided their halls. There was a war, and those dwarves that survived it went south again. Most came to the Iron Hills where now rules Dain Ironfoot, our uncle's cousin."

"Who was at your battle of Aza… Aza-bizar…?"

"Azanulbizar, yes," Fili said. "Once, our people might have taken the northern road to visit our folk in the Gray Mountains or by the shores of the Sea of Rhun, but there are still dragons hunting the bitter cold of the Forodwaith that would freeze even the noses of hearty dwarves." Fili thumbed his nose at his brother, and Kili smiled but shook his head at him.

"We might still take that road, if there was a great need," Fili went on, "but it is far safer to take the east-west road and cross over the High Pass, or to go farther down to the Gap in the south where our kin in Dunland still dwell. You have walked the Greenway yourself, have you not? It is a pleasant journey in good weather."

"I walked that way, but not on the road. I took the crossing of Sarn Ford," she said. "I miss the green grass on the hillside." She sighed and saw her white breath on the air. To take her mind of warmer weather, she asked, "What other mountains lay in the east? My geography does not rise much higher than the southern eaves of great Greenwood."

Kili looked at his brother. There was one very important mountain that Fili had left out of his lesson. A week ago, Fili would have told her that there were no other mountains, but when he saw now the open curiosity in her eyes, he could not speak the lie. He found that he could not thing of anything to say.

"Durin, the Father of our Folk, came from Mount Gundabad," Kili said, saving his brother. "There." He pointed over Fili's shoulder toward the northernmost reaches of Hithaeglir that were sharply outlined against the rising moon. "Beyond Angmar lies the Holy Mountain where Durin woke, but orcs took it and though the dwarves took it back once, long ago, our folk have not yet returned to dwell there."

Kili told a little of the history of that mountain, and Fili listened, impressed to hear how much of the old lore his brother knew. But as the evening wore on, Betta found that she was growing tired. Kili might have talked all night, but Fili saw her nodding, and he, too, was ready for quiet.

He interrupted his brother and said, "I must take my watch, but there is no reason for the two of you to sit up shivering with me. Rest, for the dawn will be here soon enough."

Kili and Betta were willing to do as he suggested. They curled up in their blankets near the embers of the fire. For the first time, Betta did not lie apart, but laid her blanket near to Kili – it was too cold to stand on formality – and they piled the baggage close around their beds to shield what they could of the wind.

Fili sat up, sharpening his knives. His eyes often drifted down toward the bridge that he could still see dimly outlined by the moonlight. The night was quiet, but his mind was troubled. He felt as if he were being watched, not by bird or beast, but by the land itself that seldom saw visitors.

* * *

**I see you, new Followers. Hi! And all of you who read but do not follow. Thanks! You must be amazing people to come so far. Don't be shy. Leave a review. They are the crumbs that feed my inspiration, and also they make me smile.**

**- Paint**


	33. Chapter 33

The first watch passed quietly and before midnight, Fili woke his brother to take the second. The heat of the day was gone and without a fire, the night was so cold that it was almost painful to his bare skin. At least the wind had died down.

Fili lay down and wrapped himself up in his cloak and blanket; he pulled his hood tight so that only his nose and eyes peered out, but still he shivered. Finally, quietly, he moved to the place that his brother had left, and he lay with his back against Betta's body. It was not much, but the warmth of her side was better than cold air at his back.

As tired as he was, he could not fall asleep, and he lay awake for some time listening to the wind and the sound of Kili's footsteps as he paced over the creaking snow. Many leagues away, a lone dog howled, and it was a haunting sound that made Fili wish for a mountain over his head and walls at his back. He could see his brother's silhouette outlined against the sky. The fire was glowing embers, but the night was cloudless and the moon lit their hillside until it seemed almost as bright as day.

Had last night been the full moon? He could not remember. Certainly it must be soon if they had not passed it already. The silver face looked down on them like a round shield, pockmarked by many battles. It had been just past the first quarter on the day they left Ered Luin; although, on that night, the sky had been full of rain, and he had not been able to see it. Had they really been on this journey for less than two weeks? He found that hard to believe.

His thoughts were restless. Fili watched his brother, shuffling back and forth to keep warm. Kili might have died today, crushed under his pony; and before that, the orcs; before that, the thief at the inn with his sharp knife while Fili had been pinned under the other thief's club and unable to help him. What had Thorin said? That this would be a pleasure walk?

Fili looked over his shoulder and saw Betta lying beside him, so bundled up that she might have been mistaken for a piece of the baggage. Her face – what he could see of it under hood and scarf – was white with cold and only the rise and fall of her chest showed that she was still living. She too had been near to death in this cold land.

Kili treated the woman almost as a younger sister. Fili had not thought of it before agreeing to the job, but he had taken on the responsibility of protecting Betta as well as his brother. He had accepted her quest as a way to prove himself to Thorin, but he had not even known her name. Like his uncle, he had not thought there would be any real danger on this journey, or that they would go so far north. He certainly did not guess that he would come to know a human woman as well as he knew this one.

They had shed blood together battling the same band of orcs. He knew her family history, the land that she had been born in and the lands that she had walked through on her way to Ered Luin. He knew the strange way that she belted her knife upright against her back instead of at her side or on her arm. He knew that she would always have a smile for the trees and the stars and for Kili, but never for Kili's brother. Fili knew many things about Betta, but he still did not understand her, and that made him uneasy. His offer of a truce had been made honestly, but she had taken his words far more seriously than he had intended them.

Until now, there had been no reason for him to try to understand the race of Men. Kili spent more time in their towns than did Fili, who saw only the arrogance of these who came to the forges or mines of the dwarves to hire them for tinkering and horse-shoeing, work that they did not deign to do themselves. In the pub, when the barkeeper had brought them a message from a human woman, Fili had refused to answer it. It was not uncommon for the richer men's wives to want jewelry hammered on a dwarf's forge to show off to their friends, but only a desperate dwarf with no pride at all would agree to such cheap work.

Of course, Betta had also sent two mugs of good beer with her message, and that was not so common. Kili had been curious, as he always was, and it was Kili who had taken his brother by the arm and dragged him to her table. It took Fili many days longer than his brother to accept that she was not one of the boastful, blundering people that he had known in Dunland and towns of Ered Luin. She was honest, yet stubborn, sturdy and resourceful… almost she reminded him of a young dwarf-woman.

Yet Fili frowned at that thought. Betta was no dwarf. One honest woman could not settle the debt of an hundred years of humiliation at the hands of lesser folk. Was it any wonder that Thorin spent his days dreaming of the glory of Erebor where his people had been the masters of their own hands? Where the beautiful things they forged were for themselves and not sold as trinkets to these who hardly knew a good bit of work from a bad. When the Mountain was reclaimed, Thorin's people would take back their honor, and if Fili could be part of the taking back, then all the sweat and danger that he put into Betta's petty quest would be worth more than any weight of gold.

And that was what bothered Fili more than anything. He understood well what his own goal was on this quest, he knew the desires of the Dwarves, but why was Betta here? Not for honor, he would bet a stone of true silver that it was not for that; and not for treasure, either, or she would have taken back the pearl when he'd offered it. Where did her interests lie, and for what did she risk her life in the northern cold?

There would be no answers got from the night, and Fili needed sleep. He turned his face to the south again. Only two hundred leagues from the frozen wastes of Forodwaith were the green fields of the Shire. Below Evendim, even, the trees would still be clinging to their leaves against winter's cold. From where he lay, all that Fili could see was snow, and in the moonlight it shown like a blue blanket full of dips and drifts, hills and hollows; but when he looked west, he saw the black stones of the bridge not quite half a mile from their camp.

The cold and the night weight down on him and his eyes began to drift. But just as he was on the edge of sleep, he saw something move upon the northern bank of the dry riverbed. Fili blinked his eyes, but a single shadow remained there.

He sat up and stared hard, thinking that it was only his tired eyes playing tricks, but now he saw that the shape was moving with a purpose. He stood up and walked to the south side of their camp, shielding his eyes against the moonlight. "Do the wolves of the north not hunt in packs?" he muttered, loosening the axe at his belt.

When his brother stood up, Kili had turned toward him. Now he followed Fili's gaze and looked across the snow. He saw the same movement that had woken his brother, but Kili had a guess for what it might be; it was not a wolf, but it was not good. He stooped down beside Betta and shook her hard until she woke.

She was used to Kili waking her for her watch, and so she did not reach for her knife, but she was tired and confused and knew that it was too early.

"What…?"

"Hush." He motioned for her to be quiet, and then he went to stand at his brother's side. His bow was in his hands and his arrows were ready. After the orc attack only three nights ago, they would not take any chances.

They waited, staring down the hill as the shape drew nearer and, as it did, Kili saw that it was neither bird nor wolf, but it was no ghost either. It had left the bridge and was moving toward their hill with speed. Both dwarves could see that the shape was that of a man, tall and walking with a long, quick stride. If he had moved with stealth before, now that he saw them watching, he ceased any attempt at concealment and approached their camp openly with his hands held out before him.

The stranger carried a bow on his back and a sword at his belt. His cloak was thick and lined with fur. He was dressed all in gray, and under moonlight it seemed that he blended with the snow and shadow of the hills as he walked. Fili found it hard to keep his eyes on him until he came very close. His boots were tall and thick, well-worn from far wandering, but over his shoulder he carried only a light pack and a thick bundle of wood.

At first, Fili guessed that the stranger was an elf, so arrogantly did he approach their camp. Fili fingered his axe with a frown. He had been raised by his uncle to give no willing welcome to elves, even if they were starving in the desolate north.

"A Man," Kili said. He fit an arrow to the string of his bow. "He is very tall."

Fili was not ready to admit that his brother had the keener sight, but Kili's eyes were not clouded with sleep, and he had several hours of rest behind him.

He relaxed his grip on his axe a little, knowing that it was a mortal he saw and not one of the elf-kind. He did not like to meet any stranger in the barren lands, but the moon was bright and they could see far around their camp. There was no sign of any other men who might be lying in wait to ambush them, and Fili did not believe that one alone could be a danger to two armed and ready dwarves.

The man now stood only a dozen yards from their camp, down the slope of the hill. Kili bent his bow and took aim. "Stop!" He called. "Stay where you are."

The man pushed back his hood and looked up at them. The moonlight glinted like a star upon the clasp of his cloak, but his dark hair and clothes were otherwise unadorned. He held out his hands with his palms forward. "Why do you raise your weapons against me?" the man asked. "I have offered no challenge."

"An enemy will not offer challenge before he attacks," Kili said.

"An enemy would not walk openly across the snow in full view of well-armed dwarves," the man answered. "Will you shoot me, or will you spare a moment's heat from your embers to warm the cold hands of a weary traveler? I promise, I mean you no harm."

Fili frowned, but although he could have refused aid to an elf – and indeed, an elf probably would not have asked for help from any dwarf – they had no excuse for turning away a man. "Come, then," he said. "You may warm your hands, but set your weapons aside."


	34. Chapter 34

Kili kept his arrow ready but lowered his aim. The man approached the fire slowly, giving the dwarves wide berth. When he noticed the woman sitting among their baggage he seemed to hesitate and glanced at the dwarves, but then he nodded to her and moved to the other side of the fire. Betta sat quietly, and under her cloak, her hand was on her knife. The stranger set aside his bow but did not remove his sword. He showed them as he tied down the hilt to the scabbard, and Fili nodded, accepting the compromise.

Then the man crouched down before their fire and held his hands over the embers, stirring and blowing on them to bring up the heat. He looked at the small pile of wood that they had and shook his head.

"At least I can do this for you," he said, "in payment for your trust." He took the bundle of wood from his back and untied it. "I will soon go where there are trees, but you, I think, do not." There were some thin twigs and kindling in his bundle, but also thick and dense branches of hardwood that would burn for a long while. He laid a small fire and nursed the embers until they cracked with flame and heat.

Fili would not turn down the wood, but his patience was wearing thin. "Who are you," he demanded. He stood with arms crossed over his chest. Kili had seen the stranger's interest in Betta, and he moved to stand near to her, guarding her. He put his bow and arrows away but knew that he could draw his sword faster than the stranger.

Kili had placed himself to protect the injured and least able member of their party, but Fili stood where he was between his brother and the man, and his hand was upon the handle of his axe.

The stranger took no notice of their weapons or their posture. He pulled his cloak under him and sat down as if he were among friends, but when he looked at each of them in turn, his gray eyes were sharp and searching. Both woman and dwarves met his gaze without flinching.

Seemingly satisfied, the man said, "My name is Harandir, and my people wander the land of Eriador. Those who have seen us call us Rangers."

The title was known to Fili and Kili, and Betta looked at the stranger with new interest. There were Rangers in the southern lands, men of Ithilien who were brave and strong-armed, and she wondered what sort of man would be a Ranger of the North.

Harandir spoke on, "As guardians, we range from Nenuial to the Ettenmoors, from the north of the North Downs to the wooded regions of the Last Bridge over Mitheithel, and west to Sarn Ford over Baranduin which we guard; even into Dunland we wander at need, along the steep paths of Hithaeglir. But as all wise men do, we avoid the haunted land and seldom wander so far north and west as this."

"Why do you then?" Fili demanded.

Betta frowned at the discourtesy that she heard in his words. Her mother had always spoken kindly of the Rangers. One had once come on errand to the village near her father's farm. She had seen him, and he had spoken with her youngest brother and showed the older boys his sword. He had also spoken clearly that swords were tools and not toys; it was then, she suspected, that two of her elder brothers at least had set their sights on serving in Gondor's armies one day.

"I track a party of orcs east from the Ettenmoors," Harandir told them.

"You hunt orc alone?"

"Indeed, for no other of my people could be spared to go with me. But the orcs travel fast, and I lost their trail over the hard ground east of Nenuial. I turned north, thinking that they might come this way, but I found the mark of three ponies instead. I followed, wondering of what sort of folk you were, wanderers in the wild north, but now that I see you, I know that you are no danger, and I will return to hunting orc."

"I would not trouble myself further for them," Kili said with a smile.

Harandir raised his eyes to the dwarf.

"We were attacked on the western side of Evendim and killed four orcs there," Fili told him. He described the attack in the ravine and the orcs that they had seen, leaving out only that Betta had failed in her watch and that she had been injured. He did not want to reveal the weakness in their company.

"That was good work," Harandir said when Fili had finished his tale.

"Good, but it was not done soon enough," Betta said. "They killed two men and a young boy west of the River Lhun."

Harandir appeared troubled by the news. "It is bad indeed if orcs have grown so bold that they cross the river as well as the open plain. The western shore should have been better guarded."

"We do not know for certain that it was done by orcs," Fili said.

"There were orc arrows," Kili reminded him.

Harandir looked back and forth between them. His eyes were sharp and saw more than Fili would have willingly revealed to him. But always, the man's gaze rested longest on Betta.

"The news is good, at least," he said finally, "that four of them are certainly killed. I will seek for their bodies to be sure that they are the party for which I sought, but I do not doubt your word. The description fits the ones that I have tracked." Harandir nodded and looked down into the fire.

"Might I ask what business brings you to Arnor?" he asked, not looking up. "It is not merely for the killing of orcs."

"I did not know that we needed the leave of any Man to cross a forgotten realm," Fili said. "There is no king to grant such leave even if we had the desire to ask for it."

"Arnor is not wholly forgotten," Harandir said. "And I did not say you needed the king's leave. I only asked your business. When I saw your camp, and knew that you were not evil creatures, I wondered what brought you to the cold lands. I thought perhaps you were lost, and so I turned aside from my own path to offer aid. Few even of the dwarves wander north of the bridge since the fall of the Witch-king." His eyes fell upon Betta again.

"You are no dwarf," he said, "and if my ears are not deceived, though it is long since I heard it, your speech is that of the southern coasts of Gondor. I most especially wonder what brings you here, and in such strange company."

"You wonder many things, Ranger," Fili said, growing angry. He did not like being called strange by any man.

"Our business is none of yours," Kili told him. He put his hand on his sword.

But Betta was not angry. "I travel with them willingly," she said, "if that is why you ask."

Kili looked down at her, and he remembered her words at the Wall before the Dwarf Halls of Ered Luin when she had tried to convince him that he and his brother should not follow her on this journey. When they first set out, she had not been willingly in the company of dwarves.

Fili was frowning at the Ranger. He did not trust the man but, in spite of her guarded words, he believed that Betta would trust him gladly. The northern kingdom had once been under the banner of Gondor, and she was born of that land. In his heart, Fili knew that her loyalty would always lie with her own folk, with Men and not with Dwarves. It troubled him, the divide that was between them, but he did not know why; his own loyalty would always be first with his kin and with other dwarves.

Harandir watched their faces and seemed in doubt of what he saw there. "If my words have given offence, then I apologize," he said. "It was not intended. Even you must admit that it is unusual to find a woman travelling in the company of Dwarves, but if you say that you are willing, then I will take you at your word." His words were directed at Betta, and his voice was gentle, but his eyes were on the dwarves, and his look was stern.

"I have given you my name and told you of my intentions here. If you wish to keep your business a secret that is your own choice, but I caution you that you are come to dangerous lands. Not all whom you meet here will be as understanding as Harandir the Wanderer. Fewer still will offer you their aid, for I know these lands perhaps better than you and might give you direction."

"You are very free with your trust," Fili muttered.

Harandir nodded but did not answer. Fili looked at his brother, but Kili only shrugged. They had already spent two days searching snow and cold for marks in a land that they did not know. Now that they had crossed the bridge, even Fili's dim memory was useless and Betta had not given them a clear direction in days. If Harandir had knowledge of northern Eriador and the surrounding hills, then his advice could save them many more days of blind searching.

He might also know something of the history of the land that could help them with Betta's riddle, Fili thought. She had told them that the writing on the back of the map was of little use to their current quest, and the map itself was vague and difficult to interpret. Even if Fili trusted her word when she said that she knew no more than what she had already told them, she had suffered as much as they had from the cold, and he knew that she would not have allowed them to wander so aimlessly if she had had better directions to follow.

Fili also knew that it should be Betta's choice whether to tell Harandir her story or to keep it a secret known only to their company; it was her quest that they were on, not his. He had often said that she would take up the reins of their journey once they crossed the bridge and his knowledge failed, but now that it had come time to do it, he found that he could not lay down leadership so easily. The finding of the treasure was as important to him to bring it before his uncle as proof of his nephews success; indeed, it was _more_ important to the dwarves, and if he allowed Betta to make the choice, then she might choose against his will. He did not trust her enough to allow it, but if he fought with her, then he would be breaking their truce. Fili had much more practice making up his own mind than seeking the advice of others.

"We come on a quest with this woman," he told the Ranger, "for her people were once of this land, and in the north she thinks to find the answers to a riddle of her past."

Kili looked at his brother and shook his head. Asking for advice regarding the lay of the land was one thing, but he had not guessed that Fili would betray the true purpose of their quest to a stranger. At least he should have consulted the other two members of his party first.

Against Kili's advice, Fili had refused to trust Betta with the secret of Erebor, but through their talk of other stories, they had led her to believe that they _did_ trust her. She did not know what they held back, and in return, she had told them many things about her family that she might otherwise have kept to herself. Kili knew that it was not their right to tell her tale as if it were their own, but Fili had made up his mind.

In Betta's eyes, Kili saw the same confusion that he felt in his heart. He hoped that she would speak up and stop Fili from making this mistake, but she sat with her hands folded in her lap and said nothing. No good could come of this.


	35. Chapter 35

**So, all of the poems/songs in this fic are my own. Although I'm not as accomplished a poet as the Master himself, I hope that they add to your enjoyment.**

* * *

Fili crouched down by the fire and rested his hands on his knees. Kili was still frowning at him, and he would not sit down. He kept his hand on his sword and kicked the snow at his feet restlessly. Betta was silent as she stared into the fire.

"This woman is, as you have guessed, from the southern lands of Gondor," Fili went on. "My brother and I dwell in the mountains of Ered Luin with our folk. Her family is dead, and she came to us seeking dwarves to open a box that was an heirloom of her father and a relic of older days.

"For a small fee, we agreed to do this work for her. We opened the box and inside we found a riddle and a map to the answer that would be found in the far north. The woman was determined to go in search of it and, for reasons of our own, my brother and I agreed to join her quest and guard her on the journey. As you have said, the northern lands are dangerous; she needed protection and we were eager for adventure."

Fili glanced sideways at Betta, but her face was unreadable. Kili stood by and said nothing, but Fili saw disappointment on his brother's face. He knew that neither of them agreed with him that he had revealed so much of their story. He thought half of it strange, at least, for it was usually Kili who was too quick to trust.

Harandir listened carefully to Fili's words. His eyes were narrowed, but he did not question the truth of what he said. "If answers are all that you seek," the Ranger said, "then I will aid you in what small measure I can. I know the lay of the land, but I also know something of the history of Arnor and the peoples that once lived along its boarders. Will you show me your heirloom box?" He turned his eyes to Betta.

She did not answer and looked long into the fire until the dwarves wondered if she had not heard the question. Fili considered taking out the box for her, since he knew where it was kept, but he did not dare to move that close to her. He saw that under her cloak her hand was on her knife.

"You say that your people are called Rangers in this land," Betta said, speaking finally. "I have heard that title before, though I have not been long in Eriador and have not met anyone here by that name."

Harandir nodded. "You speak of the Rangers of the south, of Ithilien," he said. "I must confess that I know very little of them. Our peoples have been long sundered, and it has been many, many years since I have walked within sight of the Gap. My home is in the north, and I have never been to Gondor."

He leaned towards her and his eyes were eager. "Have you seen the Great River, then? And the White Tower of Ecthelion? I have heard that it is fair indeed, like a sculpted spear of white silver thrust into the sky."

"Fair indeed," Betta echoed, and she nodded. "Yes, I suppose that it is, but I prefer the yellow fields and blue rivers of my home. Anduin is as great as the old tales tell, but I would rather see again many small rivers and breathe the scent of the sea as it is carried over green hills upon the wind."

"You speak of Lebennin, I guess. I have heard it described in many songs." Harandir smiled and then, to the surprise of the dwarves, he began to sing in a quiet voice.

Fair Lebennin by the Sea  
The five streams of Lebennin

Brightest blue Erui runs wild and free  
Beside my Fair Lebennin  
Serni runs swiftly over green grasses  
That grow tall in Lebennin  
Powerful and fair runs Gilraen there  
On the hills of Lebennin  
Sirith runs laughing, and Celos runs sweet  
Through my land of Lebennin

The five streams of Lebennin  
Fair Lebennin by the Sea

Betta smiled as the last verse ended. Her mother had used to sing that rhyme when she washed clothes in the brook near their farm; the stream was a tribute to a tribute that flowed into Sirith many miles away. It was an old rhyme but one that Betta had nearly forgotten, for she had not heard it in many years.

"You have given your name," she said to Harandir, "but you have not asked for mine. I will not speak for my companions; for that is not my right," she said this with a sharp glance at Fili, "but gladly now I tell you that I was called Anbeth when I lived in the land of your song. Now I am only Betta, but if you will aid me in my search, then I will be happily at your service."

Kili stared at her as she spoke, and Fili frowned, for a new voice seemed to come from her that was younger and less wary than the woman that they knew. Her words were strangely twisted in an accent that she had only hinted at before. Fili guessed that she must have deliberately taken on the speech patterns of the north during her travels; that, and learning that she had kept her true name a secret, woke his suspicions again, and he thought it bitter that she had told Harandir her true name before he and his brother knew it.

Kili, however, was smiling and shaking his head at himself for not having guessed this riddle before. Dwarves have their own names in the secret language that they use only among themselves and, though it was not a custom of Men that he knew, Betta had always introduced herself by saying that it was a name that her brothers had called her.

"You have a gift for words, Anbeth," Harandir said, "but I will call you by the name that you have taken. Betta, may I see the heirloom box? I would repay your trust with the best council that I can give, and that cannot be given until I know more of what it is for which you search."

The box was in the bag that sat nearest to her, and she retrieved it with her left arm. She was about to stand, to carry it around the fire to Harandir, but Kili stopped her.

"Let me," he said. "You may trust the Man, but I am still wary." He took the box and delivered it himself, keeping his hand on his sword. He did not really think that the Ranger was dangerous, but he was not willing to risk Betta's life, and he knew that Fili was still frowning at the man.

Harandir took the box and looked at the shapes in the steel. "I recognize this mark," he said, touching a sign that had been stamped on the inside surface of the lid. "I have seen it carved in stone somewhere that I cannot now remember. It was a long time ago when I was very young."

"Then it is of no help to us," Fili said, standing upright again. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "Tell us what you know, not things that you cannot remember."

Harandir examined the box closely, but he shook his head. "There is nothing that I can tell you about this that would be new to you," he said. "I am not so bold as to instruct a dwarf in metalwork. Is there anything else you might show me?"

Fili frowned and felt the weight of the pearl in his pocket, but he found himself hesitating to give up that treasure. He knew that Betta carried the map with her, close to her skin, and so he said instead, "There was a map that was inside the box; perhaps you will not be so reluctant as to instruct us in that."

Betta looked up, and she was surprised. She had not reminded them of the map, thinking that Fili would wish to keep it a secret. Even a child could guess that it was a map to treasure, and Harandir was not a child but a wise man. She did not think that Fili would risk his profit by handing over every clue that they had, but if this was the choice he made, then she would not disagree. She would have handed over box, map and all if it meant spending one day less in the snow. Besides, she did not really believe that the Ranger could read what was written on the pages.

She had to move her right arm to retrieve the leather envelope from under her shirt and, doing that, she pulled at the bandaged injury there. If Harandir saw the pain on her face, he gave no sign. Kili took the map and once more made his way around the fire to hand it to the Ranger who accepted the pages politely and turned them over in his hands.

He looked long at the writing on the back, and his eyes moved back and forth over the small lines of elvish letters as if reading them. Betta began to doubt how much of it he could understand. The uncommon language written in common letters was old and, though it was similar to some of the dialects spoke in Gondor, it was also very much unlike them. Her father had learned it from his father and had taught it to his sons. Betta had learned it listening at doorways, which had proved lucky when all of her brothers had died in war and she was the only one left to carry on the line.

And yet, as Harandir searched the pages for meaning, he would look up at her now and again with a frown, as if he _did_ understand them. Betta thought of what was written there, the hints of a dark betrayal that lay upon her father's family line, and she felt naked in the dark, shivering.

Fili saw the looks that Harandir gave their guide, and he did not like them; he saw her pale and anxious face and he scowled. He did not like the happy way that the man had spoken with her regarding her homeland, but even more, he did not like to see any member of their small company made more uncomfortable than all of them already were. He regretted bringing up the map. He regretted inviting the stranger into their camp. Why had he done such a foolish thing? Did he not know that all of his choices would go ill on this journey?

The night about them was growing dark and a shadow passed over Fili's face. Without knowing what he did, his hand fell to his axe again.

* * *

**In the grand tradition of bitting off more than you can chew, I've started a second fic before this one is finished. "That'll Be the Door" will be a series of events in the life of Dwalin with guest appearances by his brother Balin (and others). I thought I'd cross-promote a bit, but don't worry, QtF is still my main focus and will continue to be updated regularly.**

**Review! Review! ;-)**

**-Paint**


	36. Chapter 36

Kili saw his brother reach for his axe and the dark look in his eyes. If there was ever a time for diplomacy, it was here and now. He caught Fili's eye and made a sign with his hand that he knew his brother would understand; seeing it, Fili grudgingly nodded his agreement. He let go of his axe, and the dwarves stepped aside to speak quietly together in their own language.

"I wish that you would make up your mind, brother," Kili said. "We cannot very well pull an axe on him now that you've invited him into our camp."

"I do not like his look," Fili said. "Those are not gray eyes, but stone walls that I see."

"It is too late now. You've all but handed him our treasure. What if he demands a share of it?"

"He will not claim a single gold coin," Fili said. "But he knows these lands and might give us a clearer path to follow. He is right when he says that this can only be done if he knows what we are aiming for."

"I thought that it was Betta's task to guide us," Kili said. He saw his brother flinch and look back toward the fire, to the woman who sat beside it. Usually, Kili knew his brother's mind without needing to ask, but in recent days, he had found that he needed to search and to ask to discover it. The farther north they travelled, the darker was the mood of all the company, and Fili's temper was growing short. Kili knew that there was more danger in that than in orcs or strangers at their camp.

"It is done now, in any case," Kili sighed. "You are right, and we may as well hear the man out. I think that Betta trusts him, and if she trusts him then I will trust him. She seems to know these Rangers better than you or I."

"I do _not_ trust him."

"Why does that not surprise me," Kili muttered.

Fili continued to stare at Betta and frown. Though he could not see her face, he guessed that she was looking at the Ranger with far more kindness than she had ever shown to Fili himself. He shook his head. "I do not trust him, nor do I trust Betta with him," he said.

Kili raised an eyebrow. "Why do you guard our guide so jealously," he asked. "You should know by now that she can look after herself."

"I am taking care," Fili said, "as you should be. She is human and not one of us."

Kili looked at him in amazement, but his brother had already turned away and gone back to the fire. Kili followed him, thinking hard on what had been said. His brother's words had been sharp, but his voice was not, and that puzzled Kili more than the rest of it. Fili was behaving very unlike himself, and it should take more than cold snow and strangers to change the mood of so stubborn a dwarf.

Harandir had finished reading the map by the time the dwarves returned, and he put the pages down upon his knee. His face was expressionless and did not show his thoughts. He said to Betta, "If this is indeed your quest, then it is good that we have met so that I might set you on the proper path. You have wandered far out of your way searching for guideposts in the snow."

"Then you know where the map leads?" Fili said. "Tell me."

"I cannot tell you where to go, for I do not know what it is that _you_ are searching for." Harandir's eyes were cold when he looked at Fili. He may not have understood the words that the dwarves had spoken together, but he understood the tone and the meaning of their conversation.

Fili frowned and looked away.

Harandir held out the box and pages. Once more, Kili retrieved them before Betta could stand. He knelt down to hand them to her and put his hand on her shoulder as he did. She looked up, and he looked into her eyes, searching for some sign of what had turned his brother against her, but her gaze was as honest as it had been at Ered Luin. The secrets that were there there were the same that he had seen before; unless it was that there were fewer of them. She smiled at him and put the pages back into the envelope under her shirt.

Kili stood up. He looked at his brother and shook his head. Fili scowled, but Kili knew the woman better than he did, and he trusted his brother's judgment.

Betta saw their looks and their nods, but she did not understand them. Their suspicions darkened her mood and put a shadow over the happy memories of her homeland, but she did not question them yet. She turned away from Fili and spoke instead to Harandir.

"I would hear all that you know concerning this land," she told him. "My friend spoke the truth, and I do seek answers in the north. If you have them, then I say that you may demand my life story or even my life as payment, and I would give both to you once my quest is over."

Fili looked at her in dismay.

"Say not that," Harandir said sharply. "You are too young to offer your life so rashly to a stranger."

"This journey has been my life," Betta said. "I have had nothing else, and after it is over, I will have nothing more."

"Wait until it is over," Fili said, "then you may decide what your life is worth."

He sat down near the fire and near to her. She looked at him, and it was her eyes now that were stone walls to him. He could only imagine what hard words she would have to say once the Ranger left. If Kili's looks were anything to judge by, Fili guessed that he had earned hard words, but he continued to believe that his suspicions were justified.

Harandir ignored the many looks that were being passed back and forth around him. He nodded as if it were all quite clear to him.

"I will tell you what I know of the history of Arnor, of the people who dwelt there, and of some of the peoples who dwelt along its boarders," he said. "I will not tell all that I know, for that would be a tale for many nights, and I can only spare this one. All I ask for in return is that you look with hope beyond the end of your journey."

He looked at Betta with pity in his eyes. "I think that perhaps you are like the Lost Realm, for though much that has happened here is sad, there is hope for great joy beyond the dark and the danger. And I hope that I do not do wrong in telling you this tale."

With the prospect of a story, Kili finally sat down. He made himself comfortable and threw a few more sticks on the fire. Beside him, Fili's face was dark but earnest. They were both eager for answers and a clearer path to their treasure. Kili was curious to know more of the history of Betta's people, which he felt sure would be full of battles and bravery. Fili finally had reason to hope that he would hear all that he wished to know regarding her past and her purpose, and that it would put his suspicions to rest.

Neither dwarf saw the misery on Betta's face, or the determination that tightened her fists under her cloak as she waited for Harandir to speak. She already guessed what he would say, and she had little hope that her fears would prove unfounded. In her mind's eye, she recalled the bloodless face of her father after the wagon brought his body home. He had died, but his shade had never left her; it stood at her shoulder now, and she felt a cold breath on the back of her neck. She tugged a stray lock of hair above her right ear and pulled her cloak tight about her shoulders.

Harandir sat still, staring into the fire as he gathered his thoughts for the tale he would tell. He began, "If you were born in the southern lands, then you will know the dark and desperate history of the war between the Dunedain of the North Kingdom and the evil Lord of Angmar, but there were others who dwelt in this land before the coming of the Witch-king. They were here before the men of Westerness when the elves were laying the first stones of Mithlond at the mouth of Lhun. Few survived the long, dark years and of those few, most were scattered and lost or mingled with other peoples and they are now forgotten..."


	37. Chapter 37

"It was many, many years ago when the Witch-king first appeared in the northern lands. The rumors were many, how he had come there and where and how he obtained his dark powers. Some say that he was a lesser servant of the Dark Lord who once desolated the southern lands; others, that he was a king from the east where men are strange and their magic is terrible."

Harandir nodded to Betta. "Of course, you know or have heard whispers of this sort. You have seen the Mountains of Shadow and know what evil can be found in the lands south and east. All dark creatures will eventually find their way into the service of dark lords, and dark lords are always searching for free lands to conquer and turn to evil.

"It was the 1300th year of the Third Age, as we count them, when this evil crossed over Hithaeglir and darkened the northern lands about the Mountains of Angmar. The lord of that region was then given the name of Witch-king, but his true name no one has ever spoken. He made war on the Dunedain of the North, of the land called Arnor which at that time was divided into three parts, each under its own king. Perhaps if they had not allowed themselves to be so divided, their united power might have turned back the assault and much of their suffering would have been abated.

"But the Witch-king knew this, too, and even when the King of Arthedain attempted to unite the three lands under one banner, the claim was denied partly due to the evil lord's influence with the lesser men which also dwelt at that time in…"

"What has this to do with us?" Kili interrupted impatiently, for he was eager to hear more of battles and less of the politics of kingdoms.

"There are some here who are not dwarves, and they may wish to know something of the history of the peoples who dwelt in these hills," Harandir reminded him. "There were more than the Dunedain, my kin. The Lossarch, for one, who survived in the ice-lands and were driven farther north when evil returned. And the Periannath then dwelt among the hearty Men of the Chetwood in Eriador around the town that is still called Bree. There were other peoples besides and one proud folk whose right name is lost but whose tale was not forgotten.

"As a lad, I was keen to learn all the history that I could, and it was lucky that my father would often take me with him when he was sent with messages to Rivendell, which is a fair elven house where many things are remembered that others forget, and stories are told there that cannot be heard elsewhere."

At the mention of elves, Fili turned up his nose and made a derisive sound, but Kili shushed him and Harandir went on.

"What free time I had on these errands, I spent in reading and learning and listening to anything anyone would teach me. There are many books in the house of Elrond that tell the history of the north, for the elves have lived in this land for countless years, since Numenor even when Men still dwelt in Westerness before the fall. Hidden among the pages for those to find who choose to look is the tale of a people who were well known to the Dunedain of that time.

"They were a secretive people, and in the Dark Years they had dwelt near the mountains of Angmar before that land became wholly evil. It is said that they were once a family of the Lossarch of Forodwaith, but that they had separated and moved south searching for their own kingdom to build. They made their homes by delving deep into caves so that in later years the men of the west who met them briefly confused them for tall dwarfs. Indeed, in the oldest records, they are sometimes called the Beardless Naugrim."

Kili glanced at his brother, but this time Fili managed to keep his thoughts to himself.

"They were a peaceful people, for the most part, and when the mountains grew evil, they fled south, leaving behind their stone dwellings. They built huts on the open plain near to where we sit now, tilling fields and keeping to themselves – though they still at times traded with the Lossarch and other peoples of the west, north and south. Their greatest city was called Ankor that they built above the Hills of Evendim when Fornost was yet inhabited and beautiful. They were, for the most part, too small to catch the eye of Angmar for it was turned south toward Rhudaur, the easternmost of the three kingdoms, the weakest and most liable to fall.

"At this time, the people of Ankor gave little thought to any of the greater kingdoms. They were indifferent to the rule of others and for the most part battle had swept by and around them like waves about an island, but the storm was coming.

"Rhudaur was the first of the three kingdoms to fall beneath the strong arm of Angmar. Its king was overthrown and in his place was set one of the crude chieftains of the hill-people that then populated the Ettenmoors. Many of the Dunedain were killed in that first defeat, and they became hunted men fleeing west to take refuge in Arthedain. Some came to Ankor and were accepted into the city as refugees.

"Many were the battles that followed the fall of Rhudaur, smaller but each a piece of the greater strategy of the Witch-king who lived long years and could bide his time while his enemies grew weaker. It was fifty years before the evil arm reached out again, and the great watchtower of Amon Sul was burned.

"The armies of Arthedain held the line at Fornost and upon Tyrn Gorthad, but Arveleg, their king, was killed. In the south, Cardolan fell, the second kingdom, and it was razed with a great suffering and death to its people."

Harandir sighed and hung his head. The fire cracked and burned low, and the darkness deepened. "Until that time, the people of Ankor had lived indifferent to a war that was many hundreds of leagues away, yet they grew guarded again for the Lord of Angmar often marched his armies close to their land. Orcs and evil men were wandering freely in the north and would raid any homesteads or small towns that they found unguarded. The free people there gathered together and fortified the walls of Ankor. They lived under siege and seldom went out without weapons which before they had not often carried.

"After the fall of Cardolan, the king of Arthedain sent word to the scattered peoples, and to Ankor, seeking aid in exchange for his protection from the thieves and scavenging orcs. Many sent the aid he sought, and even the Periannath who were not fighters sent a small company of archers to war, but the lord of Ankor refused to send any of his people into battle and only reluctantly did he agree that if any in his city wished to go, then he would not prevent their leaving, but he said also that they would not be welcomed back again for he deemed any outsiders to be spies and doers of evil.

"The war between Arthedain and Angmar was a time of strife for many, and not even the people of Ankor were free from care for they would often trade with Bree and with the little people who had by then been granted land beyond Baranduin which they called the Shire. The merchants of Ankor would take their goods down a road of their own making between Nenuial and the North Downs, but this was a debated land and often battled crossed over it. Orcs waylaid their wagons and both sides set a guard that would halt travelers and capture them as spies or confiscate their goods and turn them back. The great stronghold of Fornost was much besieged at this time.

"As the years passed and war grew thick, the Witch-king would sometimes march his armies around the north of Emyn Uial in a show of force to occupy the western guardians of those hills. The dwarves were few in number then, but the elves of Lindon defended the River Lhun. Then, evil men would camp near Ankor or march through its fields, raiding and destroying its crops."

"We passed by the ruins of Ankor," Kili said. "There was a great, carved cornerstone but little else to see. It is hard to believe that there is so little left if it was such a great city as you say."

"That city was pillaged long ago, and the bricks of its houses taken for other use. The great guard wall, it is said, was built of wood, however." Harandir shook his head. "From the description that I have read, I do not think that it was ever a beautiful city, but it was strong and great in the reckoning of the lesser men of that age. In the end, the Witch-king's armies set a flame to it, and its people were scattered to the north and west.

"They say that at this time, the Lossarch still camped south of the bay of Forochel, but when Ankor burned, they fled to the northernmost peninsula, and they come now seldom to the warmer lands. There were other people from that land also who went with them, but the first families of Ankor, descendants of those who had come down from the mountains, did not; perhaps they no longer cared for the bitter cold and that was why they had left it.

"A second time, the king of Arthedain offered them protection within his own realm, for the remaining people of Ankor were skilled in stealth, cunning in the planning of secret attacks, and they knew the lay of the land up to the walls of Angmar and Carn Dum itself for they sometimes still returned there in secret to visit the abandoned caves of their ancestors. The lord of Ankor was proud, but he agreed to lesser terms, having nowhere else to lead his people that was safe.

"They left the land around the ruins of Ankor and moved south to settle upon the eastern side of Lhun between the river and the Hills of Evendim. When called upon, they aided the armies of Arthedain, but always they were reluctant to leave their small towns; they kept to themselves and survived but did not thrive. Ever their numbers grew fewer and fewer, and they were sullen, blaming the Dunedain for bringing evil upon them. Though they had left it behind, still they called their villages Ankor and were ever after known as the people of Ankor.

"Many years passed, many hundreds of years, and Arthedain was battered by the constant threat of Angmar. A once-mighty kingdom, its strength was failing. The king sent to Gondor for aid, but the southern lands had wars enough to occupy them and there was no help to spare.

"And then, nearly seven hundred years since he first darkened the northern lands, the Witch-king struck a blow so great that Arthedain was brought nearly to its knees. The last remaining king called upon his allies and the people of Ankor with them. Again, Gondor had no help to offer, but Arvedui mustered what men he could and they marched against Angmar in the last great battle of the Northern Kingdom.

"Before its downfall, the people of Arthedain fought with strength and honor. But they say that the forces from Ankor marched with Arvedui only as far as the shores of Nenuial. When they looked toward Fornost, across the fields that had once been green and fair, they saw the blasted ruins of war and the legions of Angmar, orcs and trolls and evil men. They were afraid and refused to go on."

Fili scowled. "Your information is very clear for being pieced together from scraps of story," he said. "How do we know that all you say is true?"

Harandir frowned but did not look up. "I know what has been written," he said. "And it has been written that the soldiers from Ankor looked out from the walls of Annuminas, and their courage left them. They abandoned the war and returned west over the hills. There, they gathered what was left of their women and children and began the long, slow march south along the line of Ered Luin."

Harandir looked up from the fire finally and his face was sad. "The last that is written of them is that they camped for a time near the pine woods of Eryn Vorn. There, many of the refugees of Eriador had fled during the wars over the many years. Perhaps some still are there, but whether they stayed or whither they journeyed on, no story tells, and the Dunedain have few records of that time, for the kingdom of Arthedain fell.

"Others have told how Arvedui was lost to the frigid waters of the North, and how the armies of the southern kingdom came too late, only in time to roust the Witch-king from his spoils. Cirdan of the Elves and Earnur of Gondor descended from the hills of Evendim and the armies of Angmar were defeated at last. The Witch-king fled and has never been seen again, but the stain of his evil still lingers in the far north and for many years his orcs and trolls still wandered beyond the mountains there, and there the dragons rule. But Arnor, the North Kingdom, was destroyed and has not been rebuilt."

With that, Harandir bowed his head. Batte sat silently staring into the fire. In Harandir's tale, she heard an echo of the southern wars of Gondor that had taken her uncles and brothers. Not far from her homeland, there was a dark power ruling from Minas Morgul, another evil lord of sorcery. If the north kingdom could fall, why not the south kingdom, also, that still fought wars in plenty? What would Lebennin be if the Witch-king passed over it? Its green fields would wither and its blue streams would dry to dust.

Betta bowed her head and tears ran down her cheeks.


	38. Chapter 38

The fire had burned low. Kili threw a few more sticks into the flames. The dwarves sat in respectful, if uncomfortable, silence. The loss of a kingdom of Men meant little to them, but they knew the loss of Moria, and of Erebor and of Nogrod. Countless dwarf cities had fallen over the ages, and they still carried the grief with them.

Fili watched Betta out of the corner of his eye. She had raised her hand to her face, but he watched one tear fall before she hid the others. He scowled, angry with the Ranger who would tell such a long and rambling tale that only served to cause grief to a member of his company. Fili had had his suspicions of the woman who traveled with them, but she did not deserve to be blamed for a crime that was not her own.

"How is it that you know that the people in your story are the forefathers of this woman's line," he demanded. "There were many men in this land in those days, so you have said, and she may have descended from any one of them, or from none of them. What evidence do you have to burden the branches of her family tree with these cowards of Ankor?"

"As for that, I have none," Harandir admitted. "But I have never said that it was a certainty that her family descended from theirs. I only tell you their story now for it seems to me that there is some connection between their history and the business that you have in these lands.

"But you ask for evidence," he went on. "You have passed what is left of the guard-wall of Ankor. Your friend here has said that you saw the broken cornerstones that are all that remain of it. Did you not look closely? Did you not see the carvings upon the face of the stone that even Harandir can tell are the same as the name upon the page of your map? Ankor was a great city, but few mapmakers marked it even then, for there was no need.

"The design of that box is also familiar, though not to you. I have seen such workmanship in metal and stone shards that are found buried near the old settlements of the people of Ankor. Often after a hard rain, their pottery and metal tools will be found, and that mark is upon nearly everything that they made. If all of this is not evidence enough that what I have said concerns your quest, then that is for you to decide. If you look for certainty, you will not find it here."

Harandir frowned at Fili until Fili looked away again. To deny the evidence at hand would be willful blindness, but still he might have found sharp words to say in his anger if Betta had not then interrupted him.

"So," she said, but she hesitated. The others waited, and Kili looked at her with interest. She seemed about to say one thing but frowned and decided against it.

"So," she began again, "I have sought for answers and now I have them. I come from a line of cowards and deserters. They spoke the truth who said, 'do not dig too deep beneath the roots of a withered tree, you cannot know what bones are buried there.'" She sighed. "And yet… yet it is not wholly unlooked for by me, this poison in my blood…"

"That war was many hundreds of years ago," Kili said. "That poison, if it was ever there, has been washed away by now. Your uncles were not cowards; and, though I have not yet heard their story, I would bet pure gold that neither were your brothers.

"In any case, we know that the box and the map belong to the people of this Ranger's tale. But what of that? Your father's fathers may as easily have tripped over it by the side of the road and passed it down from hand to hand, claiming it for their own when it was not."

"That may be the way of it," Harandir said, but his face showed that he did not believe Kili's version of events. "But be not too harsh upon the people of Ankor, whether you claim them or not as your own. It is true that they turned back from the last battle, the histories tell us that much, but before then, they fought often against the orcs and evil men in their own lands and made excursions into the north to hunt the orcs that dared to dwell in their abandoned halls of stone. Many refugees of Rhudaur and Cardolan were taken in and protected behind Ankor's walls before those walls were burned."

Harandir shook his head. "I have never heard in book or in song that the people of Ankor were called cowards. It was not in their nature to fight under the banner of a foreign king, and the only oath they swore to Arthedain was that they would not fight upon the side of Angmar. That they never did."

"You need not break an oath to be a coward," Betta said angrily. "They rode up to the edge of battle only to turn back."

Harandir pitied her grief and forgave her anger. He told her gently, "Who among us can say what we would do if faced with the terror of the Witch-king of Angmar in the fullness of his power when his wrath and pride were at their peak? Those years were long and dark, and there was great sorrow. Treachery lived within the walls of every city. Never would the Dunedain of the North hold in grudge a man who, knowing his own weakness turned back rather than betray his friends. The battle was lost and the people of Ankor, if they had held to their purpose, could not have saved it."

"Your words do little to comfort me," she said.

"You asked for answers, not for words of comfort. There is nothing more that I can say but this: it may be that not all of the men and women who rode out to that last battle turned back. If there were any who remained faithful to Arvedui, they would have fallen among the soldiers of Arthedain and their names would not be remembered."

That was small comfort, but Betta took what she could from it. There was a chance that her ancestors were the surviving children of a soldier who had remained in Annuminas while the others fled. Remembering her father, she doubted that it was true, but remembering her uncle, she felt a small hope in her heart and she held onto it.

Harandir indeed said nothing more after that, and they sat in silence for a long while, each thinking their own thoughts. The dwarves shared an uncomfortable look. This was not their history or their sorrow, and they did not know what to say to comfort Betta if one of her own kind could not.

.

Eventually, Harandir raised his head again. The night was growing old and soon the sun would rise again. He stood up and said that he must make ready to leave them. "But first," he added, "I would speak with Betta alone, if she will agree, and if her guards will allow it."

"I agree," Betta said.

"But I do not like it," Fili said.

"No one has asked you to like it," Kili told him, standing and stretching his legs, "but it fits my liking well enough. I would speak with you again, brother, also alone."

Fili shook his head, but he stood and followed Kili a few yards away from the camp. Like it or not, he had no reason to say that the man was a danger to Betta, and he already guessed that Harandir saw them not as guards to protect her but as guards that held her captive. Kili was glad that the man had spoken first; he had not thought that he could pull Fili away a second time, and his brother needed to cool his head.

Harandir watched the dwarves step aside, and when they were out of hearing, he moved swiftly around the fire and knelt beside Betta who still sat among the baggage. He took her hand in his and held it tight. She had still been staring sadly into the fire, and he had moved so suddenly that she had time only to be startled and not to pull her hand away before he had already begun to speak.

"I do not doubt that you are in this land willingly," he said, quickly and in earnest, "but I must ask you, are you willingly in the company of dwarves? Do not misunderstand me. If I believed that they meant you any harm, then I would have come with weapon drawn and not with empty hands, but there are times when our choices bind us to a fate that we do not expect, and you should not suffer for past mistakes when I can free you from them."

"I do not know what mistakes you think that I have made," she said. She stared at him in confusion. "Not to say that I have not made many in my time, but there are few wise enough to see tomorrow when they make their choices today. That is not reason to abandon a chance companion when the weather turns cold, and these dwarves are my companions and not my captors. You say yourself that they mean me no harm."

"Those who do not mean harm may still cause it," Harandir said. "I did not ask to speak with you to advise you of either choice, although I must admit that I am surprised by your answer. I only say that if you would be free of them, then I will help you to escape. The blonde one with the sour face, his heart is set on this treasure that he thinks he will find. I know that he will not willingly allow you to leave."

Betta nearly laughed out loud. She remembered a time when it was the blonde one who had ordered her to go on her way. That was less than a week ago, and it was undoubtedly Kili – whose face was perhaps less sour – who had convinced Fili to change his mind.

Harandir did not see her amusement. He grasped her hand tighter and spoke on, "I will take you with me on my journey south and west over Evendim. Even if we meet with orcs, it would be safer than leaving you to travel with dwarves alone into the north. When my errand is done, then I will take you back east to the lands where my people dwell. And then if you still wish it, from there we will find you safe passage back to Lebennin in the south. Surely you have family who are worried and wondering where you are."

"I do not," she said.

Betta thought of living with the Rangers, the wise and proud Rangers that she had always admired – at least, she had admired the southern Rangers who defended the garden of Ithilien. The Rangers of these cold, northern lands did not seem to be as wise if they were all as unwaveringly suspicious of dwarves.

She looked at the Ranger in front of her now. He was more than a full head taller, and his face was grim and lined with the care and sorrow of his life. Harandir had seen many decades in this Middle-earth, and Betta had seen only three. There was nobility in his eyes as well that reminded her of the proud men of Minas Tirith who could still trace their line undiluted back to Westerness. The home that Harandir offered her was not Lebennin, and the Dunedain of the north were not her people, but for a moment she was tempted to accept Harandir's offer.

The steel box felt heavy in her hand, and she thought how easy it would be to put it down and leave it behind. The dwarves could continue on the quest if they wished, and have their adventure; she would give them the map and tell them what was written there. Fili would be angry with her. He would consider it a betrayal, but he had betrayed her, too. Kili would be sad, but she knew that Harandir had misjudged them both and they would not stop her from going her own way.


	39. Chapter 39

Kili stood with his shoulder to the camp, speaking earnestly with his brother, but Fili's eyes were on the Ranger and he heard little that Kili said. He had seen Harandir take Betta's hand and scowled as he ran his finger along the blade of his axe. The metal was cold, but that would not harm it. He wondered why Betta had allowed a stranger to come so close to her without drawing her knife. Her hand still twitched out of habit whenever he or his brother drew near without warning.

Betta looked up as if she felt his eyes on her, and she looked back over her shoulder at the dwarves.

Fili looked away and put his hand in his pocket. The pearl was still there, but she had given it to him freely this time, and he did not believe that it would hold her if she chose to leave and continue her quest with a Ranger instead of two stubborn dwarves.

"What if she does not want to go on?" Fili said.

Kili frowned. He had been reminding his brother that the laws of hospitality extended even to guests in the wild, and he did not know what had prompted such a question. "Of course she will go on," Kili said, impatiently. "We've come too far to turn back now."

"Well, what if she chooses to go on without us?"

Again, Kili frowned and did not understand. "I suppose that is her choice to make, but you know as well as I that so long as she travels north, we will follow. But why do you worry? She did not turn back when the thieves attacked, nor the orcs, nor the cold of the storm, and she knows that she cannot journey northwards alone now that she is injured and her supplies are few…"

"I did not say that she would go alone," Fili said, frowning at Harandir's back, "only that she would go on without us now that one of her own kind has arrived to tempt her away from the quest."

Kili looked back to the camp and saw Betta and Harandir speaking together. He laughed. "Tempt her away? With what?" he asked. "Where will he take her but on a futile quest for orc bodies? That will not tempt our guide." He shook his head. "You worry for nothing, brother. Betta has more loyalty in her than that."

Fili nodded, but he was not reassured. "We cannot all be as optimistic as you, Kili."

.

Back at the camp, Betta was unsure what she had seen in Fili's face before he had turned away, but Harandir was still watching her with narrowed eyes and waiting for her answer. She knew what he would see if he looked into a dwarf's eyes.

Gently, she pried her hand from his grasp. "I thank you for your offer," she said. "I know that it was kindly meant, but I am here by my own choice. It is true that when we first set out I did not want these dwarves with me, but we have come too far together now to be separated by suspicion. I will not be called faithless and prove true the reputation that your story has given to my father's line."

She was thinking less of her father's family pride and more of the determination that Fili must have to hold together their company when even he had doubted their path. Kili would always follow his brother, but Betta admitted finally to herself that she had _chosen_ to follow Fili as well. She could have demanded the lead of her own quest, and Kili would have agreed that it was hers to take, but if she was baggage on this journey, then she was willing baggage.

"At least," she added quietly, "if I do leave them, it will be because our paths divide and I go my own way, not because I choose to follow the path of another man."

Harandir did not hear her; he was thinking his own thoughts. "If your journey led you through Eriador, I might send word to my friends and they would watch over you and guard you, but where you go there are no friends…"

"I have two friends here who will guard me," Betta said firmly, "and before I came to Eriador, I traveled many hundreds of leagues with no guard but my own. I escaped from the wild men of Dunland's hills and survived the crossing at Tharbad alone. I thank you, but you worry for no reason."

"You should not put your faith in dwarves," he persisted. "Their honor does not extend beyond the protection of their family and their gold, certainly not to a woman of Gondor who happens to be travelling with them."

"That I know," Betta said. "I have known many dwarves." But she was troubled, for his words echoed a doubt that she had had before. Kili said that he would battle an army of orcs to save her, but that was a promise made in jest. Fili had said clearly that he only searched for her in the storm because his brother had wanted it; he would have left her to freeze until morning. How far did their loyalty extend, and how far did her own?

"I make my choice based on my own honor, not on theirs," she said finally.

Harandir sighed and knew that he would not convince her with words, but he had not yet given up. "I wish you luck and good fortune wherever your path may lead," he said. "I have tarried overlong, but I do not begrudge the time spent. I will ask one last time, do you mean to go on into the north?"

"We do," Fili said, coming up behind him and answering before Betta could speak.

Harandir stood and turned to face him. "Then I advise you to reconsider your choice. Though the Witch-king was driven out long ago, the shadow of Angmar is grown long again. The land will become ever more dangerous as you travel farther north and east, and it is to the north and east that you must go if you mean to follow your map."

"What is an adventure without danger," Kili said. He sat down beside Betta and smiled at her. "There is more value in a treasure won than in a treasure found."

Fili shook his head at his brother then turned back to Harandir. "Now I suppose that it is my turn to say, I would speak with you alone, Ranger."

Harandir bowed. He glanced at Betta before following Fili to the place away from the camp where he had gone to speak with his brother. Betta watched them leave with some anxiety.

"They will kill each other, I think," she said.

But Kili had anticipated his brother's request, and he laughed. "I used to think the same thing whenever the two of you were left alone, but I have been proved wrong for you are friends now," he said. "Besides, I have already warned my brother that he cannot murder a guest in cold blood, and the Ranger's sword is still tied."

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**You guys are getting a lot of chapters this week! I don't know what's come over me - I think it was too much excitement over the new trailer - but I really gotta get back on a set schedule.**

**As always, thank you all so much for reading, especially to my new followers who have had so much to catch up on! I know I didn't make it easy for you ;-) but please drop me a review. I thrive on constructive commentary!**

**- Paint**


	40. Chapter 40

Fili and Harandir stood back from the camp. "You tell a fine tale, Ranger," he said, "but for all that you have offered to aid us, you have said little that we can use on our journey and much that has upset at least one in our company."

"I will counsel you on hill and vale, if that is what you desire. But what I have told, although it may not be of use to you, it will be useful to at least one in your company." He looked back toward the camp at Betta, and then very pointedly at Fili. "It is said that the love of dwarves is only for gold and jewels and the work of their own hands. I wonder, is there anything else that your race values beyond treasure?"

"We value our kin, and our honor," Fili said.

"And is that all?"

Fili's hand fell to his axe. "Speak plainly," he demanded. "What do you imply?"

"The northern lands are deadly. There are more than orcs that come down from the mountains and the sorcery of the Witch-king did not die with him. I would not bother to instruct a hearty dwarf in such petty danger, but your company is not made only of dwarves."

"You speak as if you expect some reward for seeing what is clear to all who have eyes. I tell you, speak plainly! You believe that my brother and I would put our guide in danger."

"You are all in danger here where you stand," Harandir told him. "I had hoped to accept Anbeth's decision on this matter. She seems to trust to your honor, but now I know better. Speak plainly to me. Tell me, will you guard her as you would one of your own kin? Why should I trust a dwarf to protect a woman of Gondor when with his own words he says that he cares only for other dwarves? She has already been injured under your watch, though you have tried to hide this fact from me. If you cannot swear that you will guard this woman, then I will not allow you to take her into the north with you. She will return with me to safe lands, and I will guard her better."

Fili scowled. He very nearly drew his axe to cut the man off at the knees, but his brother's words were still in his ears, and he held back his hand. He was about to answer in anger, but he realized what Harandir had admitted, and he burst out laughing instead.

"So! Betta has already refused to go with you, and you have decided to play your tricks elsewhere! Well, I would like to see you try to force her to do anything that she does not wish to do. She is as stubborn as any dwarf-woman," he said.

"As to her injury, that was a danger of her own making, and done by the same orcs that you failed to capture before they crossed Evendim. It was my brother and I who nursed her wounds and have cared for her since then. But if that does not satisfy you, then I tell you that my brother and I will protect her as well as we are able and as well as we would protect another dwarf in our company. To do more than that, I cannot promise, for the land to the north is dangerous as you say and none of us will be safe there.

Harandir's frown deepened and he did not look satisfied, but Fili was not finished.

"If that is still not enough for you," he added as he smiled and bowed and pointed back to their camp, "then do what you feel you must do. Tell Betta that you demand for her to follow you in any direction. I have argued with her often enough to know the folly of it. But it would be great fun to watch another man try."

Harandir's frown turned to a scowl. "And what if I should remind her that she herself has said that she would offer her life to me if I told her the history of this land?" he said. "After the tale I told, you know that she will not be eager to break any oath once made."

Fili's humor left him and this time he did draw his axe. "That oath was not rightly sworn. Even had it been, her words were that she would offer up her life _after_ the quest is over." He hefted the axe in his hands. "But this is my oath, Ranger: If you or any man would try to hold those words against her, then you will see how far a dwarf's honor extends when his company is threatened."

Harandir's hand went to his sword, but it was tied and he did not draw. He knew that Fili was right and no true oath had been sworn. He did not know Betta as well as her dwarf companions, but he guessed that Fili was right there as well, and that this contest was over. At least the dwarf's anger proved his promise was true and that he would protect Betta faithfully. Harandir bowed and put up his hands. Fili put his axe away.

They returned to the camp, and Betta looked up as if she expected to see one or both of them bleeding. Fili nodded to his brother, and Kili was glad that Fili's temper had not gotten the better of him. Both man and dwarf, though scowling, were still breathing.

"Now we must finally part," Harandir said. "As to your path from here, you need not take the winding road any longer. Two days north is a great standing stone beside the remnants of a road that once was used for trade along the feet of Angmar before the Witch-king came. He widened it and used it to march his armies south and west, but the standing stones were there before him and they themselves are not evil.

"The road is mostly broken and in many places lost to growing things. It travels west almost to the southern edge of the Icebay of Forochel, although that end is much decayed. But a man that journeys east upon the road will in five days' time come to the Wall of Angmar, the boundary of this land. If you have survived long enough to reach it, then you will be roughly twelve leagues from the fortress of Carn Dum, and may the Valar keep you safe from that black city."

Harandir took up his bow and untied his sword. "I leave you with this last warning: should you reach the Wall of Angmar, _do not pass over it_. As cold and cruel as the northern lands will be, once you depart from Arnor and enter that unholy place, the wind turns deadly cold and hope fails even the strongest heart. The air is bitter and full of ghosts."

"What harm is there in ghosts," Kili said lightly, but his face was troubled.

You know your own council. I have said only that which I have heard, for not even Harandir has wandered so far."

"Thank you," Betta said. "I thank you for your advice and for other things. Good luck and good journey."

Harandir bowed to her. He cast one last, hard look at the dwarves and then left them. Fili stood at the edge of their camp to watch the man go, but the Ranger did not look back. His long legs carried him quickly over the snow and soon he had crossed the bridge and vanished into the fading shadows of night.

Kili yawned and stretched his arms. "A decent fellow, even if he was as grim and dull as old Fror, but why couldn't the man have stumbled upon us in daylight? I am tired of these long nights!"

* * *

**Poor Kili, we put him through so much, and not a gold coin in sight... it's probably a good thing that he doesn't realize what dangers are waiting for him in the bitter north...**

**-paint**


	41. Chapter 41

After Harandir left the camp, the company sat in silence for some time, each thinking their own thoughts. Kili's mind dwelt mostly upon food, his hunger and his worry that they would not find much worth hunting in the cold north. He wondered, also, if he might convince Fili to give them a day of rest before they moved on again. He was not eager to enter any land that was described as haunted, but to wait would tax their supplies and, Kili knew, his brother's patience.

Betta's face was sad and she looked older now that the brightness had gone from her eyes. What she thought, neither dwarf could guess. Neither brother knew that the story they had heard from Harandir was not the same as the words written on the back of the map they followed. That tale was dark and, Betta knew, it was only a matter of time before it, too, came to light.

Fili sat in silent thought as well, and he ran his finger over the blade of his axe. In his mind, he still heard with anger the words of Harandir, that a dwarf could not be trusted to protect a human woman. Hadn't Fili gone out into a blizzard to search for Betta when she was lost? And who was it that had bandaged her wounded arm each morning and night for three days? The Ranger had known her for a matter of hours, yet he thought that he would guard her better than Fili already had! She was _his_ guide, and it was _his_ right to protect her.

He scowled. It was not Harandir's words that troubled him the most, but the words that he had spoken to his brother before the Ranger told his tale. He had said that Betta was not one of them, and that she was no dwarf. These things were true, and yet, when Harandir had threatened to take her away, Fili had fought back as fiercely as he would had a man threatened his own kin. Only for Kili would Fili have risked killing the Ranger and breaking the law of hospitality. If the Ranger had not tied his sword, one at least of them would have spilled their blood upon the snow.

The moon fell toward the western horizon and the sky grew light as the sun made ready to rise in the east. The stars had grown dim and their campfire was burning down to embers again. Kili sighed and stretched his tired limbs.

"Well," he said, interrupting the sullen silence of his companions. "It seems the choice is before us again, to go on or to turn back."

"We go on," Fili said, without hesitation.

Betta looked up from her thoughts; she did not appear to be nearly so certain as Fili. She searched his face for a long time before she nodded. "We go on," she agreed. "Nothing has changed."

Kili looked at them both, and he knew better than to believe that nothing had changed, but he also agreed that they must go on. There was treasure waiting for them at the end, and if he did not see it through, he would always wonder and regret not knowing whether it were gold or jewels or an empty chest buried in the north country.

"Then the next question is, when do we set out?" he said. "I, for one, would like more sleep and a meal. It may be morning, but we have had very little rest this night."

"Some of us have had no rest at all," Fili reminded him.

Kili smiled. "That is all the more reason not to decamp until midday, at least. Get your sleep, brother. I will take my turn at watch, though I am many hours late for it. Perhaps if we sleep we will fool our bellies and they will not miss breakfast. It will go easier on our provisions."

Fili nodded. He was glad to have the decision made for him. As the morning sun broke over the crest of the hill, he felt strangely lightened, as if a weight that had sat upon his shoulders all night was now lifted. It no longer felt as if some evil thing were watching him from behind. He fell asleep as soon as he lay down, but Betta sat up and watched the sun rise.

She sat beside Kili, but they did not speak. He did not wish to interrupt her thoughts. But, as he listened, he heard her quietly singing under her breath, and he recognized part of the rhyme from the song of Lebennin that Harandir had sung for her.

It occurred to Kili for the first time that he knew many songs of Moria and Erebor, of Nogrod and Belegost and other dwarf cities, but there were no songs to sing for the halls of Ered Luin where his uncle now ruled. He had lived nearly all his life in those caves, but the songs that the dwarves of the Blue Mountains sang were all for other places, all of them lost and never to be reclaimed.

Except that Thorin meant to reclaim The Lonely Mountain and take back the land that belonged to his fathers. Kili smiled to think of the songs that would be sung in honor of his uncle when Thorin Oakenshield took back what was his own, when he was King Under the Mountain again, and his nephews stood beside him as princes of Erebor.

.

They did not set out until the early afternoon. The sun was shining overhead, but it looked down coldly upon them, and the air was pale. They broke their fast with a sparse midday meal, and few words were spoken between them. They packed up camp and rode north, seeking the road that Harandir had described. From there, Fili had not yet made up his mind whether he would follow it east or attempt a return to the half-directions of Betta's map.

Not even the Ranger had known exactly where their quest would end, but to follow a strange road to a black land in the east seemed worse than foolish. Much had changed in Fili since he had first conceived of the plan to leave Ered Luin and prove himself to Thorin. He knew now that there were some treasures not worth the danger, and that there were other treasures worth more than any weight of gold. He would rather return to his uncle empty-handed and in shame than lose himself and his brother to the dangers of the north.

Those things he knew, but what he had not yet decided was whether he would be able to stand by if Betta chose to give up her life to the quest. It was her life and her choice to make, and Fili had no claim upon her. But he had also promised to protect her, and he was beginning to suspect that she had some stronger claim upon him. That worried him more than ghosts and goblins together. Whenever he looked back over his shoulder, he saw her riding behind, her eyes down and her expression dark. She had not forgiven him.

Of the three of them, Kili seemed to be the only one still cheerful, and he spoke optimistically of trapping small game now that they were in hill country again where there were scattered bundles of brush and long grass raised above the drifts. In places where the steeper hills rose up, there were even bare patches of ground and around them he often saw the tracks of small animals in the snow.

Kili was careful to let Fili ride ahead on this day, although there was little chance of any of them falling into a hidden ravine. He rode next to Betta but, though he had become a deft hand at getting the woman to talk when she wished for silence, today she was stubborn. She had once hinted that she had practiced setting traps and snares during her travels through Enedwaith, but though Kili pestered her with questions regarding string, stick and netting, she never answered more than yes or no, if she answered him at all.

But he was also stubborn and did not give up. In the end, his only choice was to ask a question that he knew would demand her attention.

"The tale that you told of your uncles," he said, "was it true?"

For a moment, she did not answer, and then she seemed to wake from her thoughts. "Do you think me a liar still?" she asked, surprised that this question should come from this brother.

"I am only curious," he said quickly. "If a man had said of a dwarf's ancestors what the Ranger said of yours, he would not live long enough to say anything else. And you seemed willing to accept cowardice into your family, yet your uncles died bravely in battle. Were they your mother's brothers then, and not your father's kin?"

"They were both," she said. "Andor was my mother's younger brother, and Arborn was her elder. Beregil was my father's brother and came east with him when he took land in Lebennin. But he was very unlike my father, and they did not often get along."

Betta waited anxiously. Kili's curiosity was insatiable, and she knew that he would want to know more. It was a story that she was not yet ready to tell, not when Fili was so often looking back over his shoulder at them; she no longer trusted him not to carry her tales to other listening ears. She wanted to trust Kili but telling him a secret to be kept from his brother would test their loyalty, and she refused to come between them.

Kili sensed that he was walking a narrow line, and so he stuck to what he hoped was a harmless subject. "Your own brothers, then, they were all older than you?"

"All but one," she said. "My older brothers, they knew the story of the box that my father brought east with him; they knew many more things about our family that I never learned. My father did not think it worth his time to teach a daughter anything while he had so many sons to raise." She laughed bitterly. "He was glad enough that I had learned it after my brothers were spent."

"He taught you to shoot a bow," Kili reminded her.

"I made him teach me after my brothers left him to join the soldiers of Minas Tirith, and he only agreed to it so that I might hunt the woods at the feet of Ered Nimrais. We had moved our home to Lossarnach by then, and the hard ground there was not as generous to those who tried to farm it." She sighed. "He was a different man, after his sons left him."

Kili did not know what to say to that. He had wanted to get her talking, but now he found himself in uncomfortable territory. He had not known his own father well, and so he had little experience to draw on. Betta saw the expression on his face and she laughed.

"That is not what you wanted to hear when you tried so hard to trick me into talking with you," she said. "Well, I will tell you something more lighthearted. It was a joke to my father that he named me Anbeth, for I learned to speak when I was very young and often said things that an older child would have known not to say. I spoke more than was good for me, he used to say, but he did not know that I could also be very quiet when I sat by the door and listened to the stories he told my brothers."

"What of that name? Anbeth?" Kili said. "Why do you not use it? No one who knew you now would accuse you of speaking more than you should."

She smiled, but her smile was sad. "Because my mother named me Anwen. After four sons, she said that it was a gift for her to be given a daughter. But my father thought me no gift. He would rather have another son, and so he called me no name until I was old enough to speak, and then I became Anbeth. Then also did my brothers begin to call me Betta, for they did not agree with his naming of me but did not dare to anger him with the name my mother gave.

"My father had his wish granted soon enough, however, and a year after me, my youngest brother was born. My father called him Annandil, and he was truly a gift to all in our family; he was the last child that my mother would bear."

"I did not guess that you had a younger brother."

She nodded. "He did not live long enough to die in battle with the others."

"How did he die?"

Betta shook her head. She was sad, but then she looked at him with a smile and said, "You would have me tell you all the secrets of my family here and now? If you ask me, Kili, I will tell you, but are you so certain that there is not some secret that you have kept from me? It is right to demand answers when you yourself withhold them?"

Kili looked ahead at his brother and sighed. "It is not a secret that _I_ would keep from you."

Betta followed his gaze and her smile fell away. "How can I blame him for that," she said quietly. "Who would trust a woman with three names, no future and cowards in her past?"

"My brother shall call me a fool for it, but I do trust you now," Kili said. "I would trust you with my life, if it came to it, and in the north I do not doubt that it will."

"I do not doubt that it will," Betta agreed, "but I hope that it does not."

* * *

**To my reviewers and especially those who have Guest reviewed, since I can't PM my thanks to you personally, I want to say that your kind words have been the delight of a very difficult week. 'Epic' and 'Art' are certainly not words that I thought would ever be used to describe my poor piece of fanfiction. It means a lot to me to know how many of you are enjoying this story.**

**And if I might take advantage of your goodwill, my Dwalin fic, "That'll be the Door" is hungry for new readers. There will be blood, there will be romance, and, maybe... cookies?**

**-Paint**


	42. Chapter 42

After the last bridge over the dry riverbed, the flat plains of northern Eriador gave way to a hard and hilly land that sloped higher and steeper until it finally reached the sheer and icy cliffs that guarded the fortress of Carn Dum at the westernmost end of the Mountains of Angmar.

At first, as the three rode on from the bridge, the hills were low and gently rolling under a white blanket of snow. It might almost have been pretty to ride along as the ponies picked out an easy path around and between the feet of the hills. They wound left and right, slowly climbing higher and higher into the hills until very soon the bridge and the lowlands below it were lost from sight. Harandir had told them that the Road would be found two days north of their then-camp, but Fili knew that a late start meant they may not reach it until the third day at least.

He was eager to ride ahead and Betta's wounded arm no longer pained her; she was healing well under his careful watch. That, and the lightening load of their remaining food stuff, gave them a speed that they had not been able to manage for many days, but the weather grew colder with every mile, and the sloping hills grew steeper. Soon their path would narrow and the ponies would not easily be able to climb between them.

Everyone, dwarf, human and animal, was painfully aware of how little food they had, especially for the ponies and whenever the company came across a bare patch of ground that had been blocked from the wind and snow, they stopped to let the ponies eat what stray blades of grass they could find. In many places, there was no bare ground and the winter storms had filled in the space between the hills, blocking the path with huge drifts of snow. If the drift was low enough, the dwarves would dismount and dig their way through; but, more often than that, they were forced to turn back and go around sometimes as far as a mile to seek an easier path northwards.

As hard as they pressed their ponies to speed, by nightfall they had travelled only seven leagues further. With their wood running low, Fili did not allow them to lay a fire. They camped in the cold under the silver stars, sitting silently with their hunger after a meager meal of raw food. Afterwards, Kili stretched out upon the hard ground and felt the ache of his bruises while Betta lay beside him, shivering so hard that he felt it through the many layers of cloak and blanket that separated them. She could not sleep and lay awake wishing herself back to the warm southern coasts, but wishes did nothing to warm her.

Fili sat high up on the hillside above them keeping watch as best he could with his shoulders hunched up to his ears. If it grew much colder, they would be forced again to use the shelter that they carried, and he was reluctant to do that. He still felt the itch between his shoulder blades that convinced him that they were being watched, but when he looked around, he knew that there was no place for enemy eyes to hide in these bare hills. Harandir was many leagues south of them by now, and Fili had kept a careful eye behind as they rode, making sure that the man was not following after them in secret.

As he searched the shadowy, white hills with his eyes, he sighed and told himself that he was being a fool; there was no one to watch them and no reason for him to be worrying. They were alone for miles around, far from aid but also far from attack, yet still he strained his ears for any sound of hoof or boot, of animal or man that might be creeping up upon them. He saw nothing but snow and heard nothing but the wind, and his brother turning restlessly in his sleep.

When it was Kili's turn at watch, Fili took his place beside Betta. It no longer felt strange to lie beside the body of a human woman, and he fell asleep quickly enough, but his dreams were troubled and strange, full of watching eyes and frowning faces. He woke often and heard the sound of his brother pacing back and forth, the creaking of his boots in the snow was like the grinding of stone deep down in the mines of Ered Luin where Fili would often go to work when he could no longer stand the sight of the sneering men who hung about the dwarf forges in town.

He slept fitfully, but he must also have slept deeply as well, for when he woke next, it was his brother's back pressed against his own, and Kili was fast asleep. Betta was on watch, but she never paced the camp the way that Kili did. Fili looked over his shoulder and saw her sitting above them on the hill, the same place that he had sat earlier in the night. The snow formed a nest around her small body, and her blankets were wrapped so tightly around her head and shoulders that she seemed almost to be a small, grey stone dropped from the sky. It was only that her head turned this way and that as she kept watch that showed she was still living.

In the gleam of the moonlight, he could see her eyes watching the land about them and sometimes, when the wind dropped low, he heard her singing quiet songs to herself. They were not the songs that Dis used to sing to her young sons back at Ered Luin - no dwarf song would speak so often of open fields and river streams, but the sound of Betta's deep voice soothed his raw nerves and slowly Fili drifted into a dreamless sleep.

By the shore, the gulls are crying

Over fields, the wind is blowing

The Eagles tell me this…

.

There is a land far over sea

Where green is grass and leaf of tree

Where beaches white

And silver light

Will shine a path from there to me

.

On the trees, the leaves are sighing

In the fields, the grasses growing

The Eagles tell me this…

.

The second day of their riding was their slowest yet; the ponies were not happy with the growing cold and there was less and less grass for them to eat their fill. At midday when the company stopped for their meal, Fili opened the first bag of feed that they had brought for the animals. The ponies were glad, but the dwarves were not. Even Kili had begun to count the days and weigh them against the supplies at hand. Betta looked on without speaking, but Fili saw in her eyes that she had much to say. Early in their journey, she had often muttered that they had not packed sufficient food for winter travel, and she had never accepted his decision to use ponies rather than their own two feet.

She said nothing about it now and had not complained aloud for several days, but still Fili felt her eyes on him. He had chosen ponies for speed, knowing that he and his brother needed to be back at the mountain before Thorin set out, but Betta did not know that. He had not expected to be riding so far north without a clear path. How could they plan their supplies if they did not know where or when or to what end their journey would take them?

He remembered Kili asking many of the same questions that Betta had asked before they had so hurriedly set out from Ered Luin but, as always, Fili had had his own way.

While he prepared the feed-bags for the ponies, Kili and Betta stood apart and spoke together. That morning as they rode along, Kili had consulted her at length regarding traps and netting, and she had been more willing to answer his questions now that hunger was creeping up on them. Fili watched Betta show his brother how to stretch a square of fine, knitted string that he guessed was of her own devising for he had never seen anything like it before. Dwarves could hunt their own food at need, of course, but they preferred the mountain and mines to the forest and farms, and they relied on their axes and bows. They did not have the patience to wait for traps.

"Are you sure you understand now?" Betta said. "I should do this. I am not invalid, and I can lay this net with one arm."

Kili smiled. "I must learn someday, and today is that day. Besides, I would feel safer knowing that you were not wandering alone in the snow. There may yet be another storm, and we cannot risk losing our guide again."

She looked up at the cold, cloudless sky and shook her head at him, but she did not argue. Kili took his bow and left the camp, nodding to his brother as he passed by. Fili nodded back to him, but as soon as Kili had gone, he shook his head.

"It is hard to believe that he will catch anything with that bit of tangled string," he said aloud. He looked at Betta, but she only shrugged and did not speak. She had not spoken any word to him directly since the night they met the Ranger. Fili had a good guess why. Disappointed, he went back to his work.

Kili was not gone long. He returned in time to sit down to eat with the others, and as they ate he told them that he had found a small clearing of scrub grass and thistle that was free from snow. He had looked for the marks and twisted grass that Betta had described, and he had laid out the net in the way that she showed him, bracing it with pebbles where the tracks were the thickest before he returned to the camp.

Betta agreed that he had done it right, but spoke little else. Kili was not discouraged; all through their meal he cast sneaking looks at her until, eventually, she joined in and they were smiling back and forth at each other like children who had played some great prank. Fili smiled as well and shook his head at them, playing the indulgent parent, although he did not believe that the net would catch anything but grass. Kili was glad to see his brother join in their fun, but Betta refused to look Fili's way.

After their meal but before they rode on, Kili slipped away again. He was gone much longer this time – long enough to be sure that the packing-up would be done by the others – but before Fili could worry enough to go looking for his brother, Kili had returned with a smile on his face and the net in his hands. Four small, thin ground rats were wrapped up in it, caught by the neck. They would have fresh meat in their stew that night, not much but it was something.

.

That afternoon, the ride was as cold and uneventful as the morning had been. But as they rode farther and farther north, a dark cloud seemed to gather about them that no amount of fresh meat could dispel. It was not from the clouds that gathered in the sky, though they were dark enough. A feeling of foreboding had drifted in on the company and put a shadow over their hearts.

To Fili, it felt as if some power in the north was looking down upon them and was angry, but he bent low in his saddle and was determined to press on. Betta followed after him, twisting her hair about her fingers and frowning at his back. Kili came last in their party, and he was the only one of them who held onto any bit of cheer, but even he spoke little and kept his thoughts to himself, frowning more often than he smiled.

At first, Fili tried to make conversation, but his brother was too often too far behind for them to speak without shouting, and Betta either did not hear or refused to answer his words. He knew that she was angry with him for revealing her secrets to Harandir, but he was growing tired of her silent treatment and thought that her behavior was more suited to a spiteful child than a grown woman. In fact, both woman and dwarf were disappointed that their truce had not lasted longer, and all three of the company waited apprehensively for the dam to break on this latest grudge.


	43. Chapter 43

That night, Betta cleaned and tightened the knots in her woven net while Fili looked after the ponies and Kili skinned the ground rats one by one. There was little meat on the rats they had, but it was fresh and they felt as if they were eating a full meal for the first time since the ravine. They had lit only enough wood to cook the raw meat and now sat round a dwindling fire, wiping grease from their lips and feeling their stomachs finally and comfortably full.

Yet even the cheer of their meal could not chase away the dark clouds that had followed them, and that only Kili seemed not to notice – or, if he noticed, at least he could ignore them. He leaned back with a sigh and said, "If only we'd thought to bring the fiddles. We might give these hills a rousing tune."

"And draw more unwanted eyes our way," Fili said, his voice low and wary. "No, we must travel quietly from now on."

But Kili gestured to the empty hills and asked, "What eyes? Who would live in this depressing, dismal place?"

Fili did not answer.

"I did not know that dwarves played fiddles," Betta said. "I thought your folk preferred harps and flutes and instruments of metal."

"There are many things that you do not know about dwarves," Kili said cheerfully and thumbed his nose at her.

"That is true," Fili agreed.

Betta said nothing in answer to him. She hung her head and ran her fingers through her hair, wishing that she could braid it back or cut off the greasy tangles.

Fili watched Betta toy with her long hair. It was a nervous gesture that he had seen her make before. In fact, he had seen it so often that he knew it by heart and might have mimicked the way that she twisted the strands about her fingers just so. It was strange that it bothered him tonight of all nights and the only reason that he could give was that he had tried all day to be kind to her and still she refused to look him in the eye.

"It is just as well," Kili said, trying to pick up the broken threads of conversation, "I do not know if my cold fingers could pick out a tune." He rubbed his hands together. "Perhaps we might have a song?" He looked at his brother hopefully, but Fili had looked away again and did not hear him.

"Well, brother? What of a song?" Kili insisted.

"No songs," Fili said. "I do not like the air of this place. I feel watched, and the quiet rings too loudly in my ears."

"I agree," Betta said.

They sat in silence for a long time, until Kili grew impatient and stood up. He left the camp and began to walk up and down the nearby hill, digging a path in the snow with his feet. The sun had set, but none of them felt able to sleep just yet. As the night came on, Fili felt again the itch between his shoulders, and it was stronger now; his senses told him that there was danger nearby and coming closer, but his head and eyes told him that there was no one here but three ponies, a woman and his brother.

He shrugged his to shake off the itch and said, "Well, guide, will you not take out your maps tonight? It is a strange road to be built by your people but not put on their map."

"You yourself have said that there is no proof that those people _were_ my people," she reminded him. "In any case, Harandir did not say that the road was built by the people of Ankor, only that it was used for trade."

Fili scowled and rubbed the back of his neck where a knot of stress was forming. He felt an urge to draw his axe but did not know why. "Of course, we must listen to the wise words of Harandir," he said, drawing out the name with a sneer.

She did not look up and did not look at him, but she frowned, a worried expression, and touched her hand to her hair again.

"Why do you do that?" he demanded. "You have no reason to be vain with us."

Betta quickly put down her hand. "Do what? I do nothing?" she said. "You have no reason to be sullen tonight."

Fili frowned at that, knowing that she was right. Kili was still pacing up and down the hill, but he had come on his return trip to the camp and was near enough to hear what was said.

"Yes, brother," he said, "what has put you in this foul mood tonight? Does the rat-stew not sit right in your belly?"

Fili winced. He had sworn a truce with Betta so that Kili would not have to hear them fight, but here he was beginning to fight again after only a few days peace. He did not know what troubled him, but for the sake of his brother, he tried to put the anger from his voice and answer honestly.

"It is this land that does not sit right with me," he said. "But why am I put in the wrong for speaking my mind?" He stood and turned his appeal to his brother. "Should our guide not speak first? It is she who sulks. Come, tell us why you have been so quiet. There is something on your mind."

"Many things," Betta said, "but I do not know which one it is that troubles you."

Fili looked west where the sun had already gone down below the horizon, but the moon had not yet risen. The shadows were deep and dark, and they had no firelight to chase them away.

He knew that the strange itch that he had been feeling for several days now always seemed to grow stronger in the nighttime hours, and he guessed that it was that and the strange feel of the land around them that had brought all of their unhappy feelings to the surface. It would have been better for them to have this conversation while the sun still shone, but he had not been given the choice.

"You are angry with me," Fili said, turning back to Betta and trying to be reasonable. "I have seen it in your looks for two days. If our truce has kept you quiet, then I absolve you of your half of it. You do more harm in being silently angry than if you shouted for all the world to hear."

"Harm?" She stood and looked up at him with anger in her eyes. "What harm have I ever done to you or could do to you?" she demanded. "You absolve me, you say, as if you had any respect for our truce."

She shook her head. "We have not argued because it was convenient for you not to argue, but you have betrayed my trust. You used our truce to trick me, and I will not speak to you any more than I must for the remainder of this journey, for I do not know how far you will carry my words and to what strangers you will tell them."

"Do you say now that we should not have told the Ranger of our quest?" Fili asked her. "You were eager enough to take his advice."

"You were careful enough to reveal my story while hiding your own. Do you say that there was no other way to speak of my quest without betraying my dead family?"

Kili looked back and forth between them. He had been expecting this fight for days, but now that he saw them standing nearly eye to eye and equally angry, he was not sure that he was ready for it. If the battle turned from words to weapons, Betta would certainly lose; but Kili knew his brother, and Fili would never forgive himself for laying hands on a woman in anger, be she human or dwarf.

He stepped between them before it could come to that. "I will not take sides in the greater war," he said, "but in this battle, she is right, Fili. You did not need to tell the man all that you did. At least, you might have left it to Betta to tell her own tale."

"And can we trust her to tell her own tale?" Fili asked, surprising his brother. "How much of her story has she left unsaid while we have instructed her on the whole history of the Dwarves! How much are we only now discovering, hidden names and secret marks on stone and metal? You were not surprised when the Ranger told you there were cowards in your family. You had your suspicions, you said then, but where did they come from, I now begin to wonder. You have never told us what all is written on the back of those pages that you keep so close to your skin."

"'She needed protection and we were eager for adventure,'" Betta said, and her voice was as cold as the land around them.

"What?" Fili blinked at her, and even Kili was confused.

"Eager for adventure," she repeated. "You told Harandir that this was the reason that you and your brother came north. That is what you have told me, but it was a lie. When we made our truce, you said that you would not guard your words against me. You said that you trusted me not to carry them to others. At that time, I trusted you to do the same, but now I know better. I _will_ guard my words, and if you insist on demanding more of my secrets tonight, then tell me yours. Why did you wish to leave so suddenly from Ered Luin? There was only one dwarf to farewell you, and that alone is suspicious. What is it that you whisper to your brother when you think that I am too far away to hear it?"

"That does not concern you," Fili said. "Once this quest is over, those things will concern me and my brother, but you will have taken your share of the treasure and gone your own way by then."

"Whether you know my true name or not, it will not give you the gold you are after," she said. "And by your own words, that is all that you are after, adventures and gold."

"Not only gold," Fili said, but he was not as certain as he had been before the Ranger had said the same thing to him, that a dwarf loves only gold. "If it were only the treasure, would I have bandaged your arm? Would my brother have spoken to you as a friend? We have done much to take you on as one of our company, a human and a woman, and yet you still keep secrets…"

"_You_ did not take _me_ on. You forced yourself upon my quest, and still you play the innocent dwarf," Betta told him. "If you demand answers from others, you must be prepared to offer them yourself." She glanced at Kili, but he had so far stayed true to his word and out of their fight.

"I have known from the start that there were secrets you kept behind your eyes," she said, "even when we spoke together in the woods under the snow. I knew, but I did not ask. I would have let you keep them to yourself if you had let me keep mine. But I will ask you now. What interest do you have in any treasure, two royal dwarves with a King for an uncle? And are you even that? You kept secret your dealings with me over the box. Why do you sneak about your own mountain? Why did you agree to open the box at all when you so clearly scorn me and the coins I offered? Prove that my suspicions are not justified and tell me, why are you here?"

Fili looked at his brother, but Kili crossed his arms and waited, curious to see what Fili would do. He had no doubt that the whispers that Betta had heard were the many times that he had tried to convince his brother that it would be easier to come clean than to go on day after day hiding the name of Erebor.

"All that we have told you is the truth," Fili said, finally, "of our family, our tales and our history. What we have not told you, I say again, it does not concern you. You are no dwarf and would not understand it. You are not a part of this."

Betta stared at him. He did not know what to make of the expression on her face but it pained him to see it and he wished that he could take back the sharp words that he had said, and especially the last.

"Betta…"Kili began, but she stepped back from the brothers and shook her head.

"Here I stand, alone in the wild with two strong-armed dwarves and their weapons, and you say that it does not concern me what their motives are. It was not idle curiosity that caused Harandir to ask whether I am with you by choice or by force, and you, Fili, are not the only member of this company who has struggled for a reason to trust."

She took another step back from him and looked longingly into the south. "I wish now that I had not come," she said. "I should have left when he asked me…"

"Who asked you to leave?" Kili demanded.

"The Ranger," Fili said. "He was determined to rescue her from the terrible dwarves who held her captive." He had been growing anxious, but now that he saw the card that Betta chose to play, he was no longer worried. "I will call your bluff. You make a grand show, but you will not abandon your quest, not after coming so close to the end of it. You may not have the honor of a dwarf, but you would not disappoint your father's hope as easily as that."

"Fili!" Kili tried to warn him, but it was too late. Betta turned her back on them and walked away from the camp and out into the night.


	44. Chapter 44

There were few places in those looming hills that were hospitable to travelers, but Fili had found them a small, open space for their camp where the hill on one side sloped gently down from the south while the slope of the north hill had fallen in to form a flat clearing beneath a short, sharp cliff of earth and stone. It was sheltered from the wind and cold, and the ponies could walk up and down a few paces from their tethers and nibble at the short grass that had grown in the protected corners.

The ponies were still nibbling quietly as Kili watched Betta walk up the southern slope. He was tempted to go after her immediately, not eager to let her to wander alone, but she took only her knife and had no baggage. He knew that she would not go far; she was neither impulsive nor impractical, and if she were leaving them for good, she would first have gathered her supplies. She would not wander far, but still he wished that she had taken at least her bow and arrows, crude as they were.

He could not make up his mind which of them he found more frustrating and stubborn, but he turned to his brother first. "That was not wisely done," he said.

"Why worry?" Fili crouched down by the fire again. "The night is cold, and it will cool her temper and then she will return. This is her father's quest."

"As ours is our uncle's?" Kili asked. He shook his head. "That line will not win Betta's heart. I do not know what drives her on this journey, but I think that there was not much love between her and her father."

Fili looked up at him, and then he looked up the hill. Betta had only reached the end of the path that Kili had dug with his pacing feet perhaps a dozen yards above them before she rounded the hill. The moon was rising in the east and he could see her, distant but still visible as a dark silhouette against the sky.

"She never said anything about him to me," he said quietly, though there was little chance of her hearing his words. "Why else would she carry his box with her and put up with so much from this journey and from us, if not for the sake of her father."

"You wish to know why she is on this quest?" Kili said with a smile. "She wishes to know why we are. This is at least her journey to make. She had no reason to trust us when we forced our way into her company, and now you have certainly given her a reason not to trust you. Why did you have to go and say all that you did? At least you could have spoken gently."

"I said what should have been said long ago," Fili insisted.

Kili also looked up the hill at Betta. "Perhaps, but you know that she is no danger to us," he said, "unless you think that she will cut our throats as we sleep…"

"I do not."

"However, she _is_ a woman alone who has done much of her travelling alone. She knows that we could easily do her harm here in the wild…"

"But we would not."

"And she is meant to take your word for it, when you are so secretive and yet so threatening, demanding answers from her? How is she to know that we are safe if we cannot even tell her why…?"

"Thorin would not like it to be spoken of," Fili interrupted his brother. "There are enemies who would be very eager to know the details of our uncle's quest."

"They will not hear of it from her. She keeps the secrets that she is trusted with better than you keep yours."

Fili frowned but he did not deny it. Betta had forced a path beyond Kili's trail. She had passed over the top of the hill, and he could no longer see her standing in the snow.

"Why won't you tell her?" Kili persisted. "It is more than fear of our uncle's anger that makes you hesitate. Do you think that she will be jealous when she learns that we are after a treasure greater than the one she offers? She already thinks us a greedy pair of royal dwarf-brats."

"No," Fili said. He sat down near the dying fire and wished that he could spare a stick to stir up the embers. "No, for I know that she cares little enough for gold, and you know it, too. Treasure was not her reason for journeying across Middle-earth from her fair Lebennin. I do not know what it is that I fear… perhaps…" He sighed and shook his head.

Kili sat down beside his brother and did not interrupt. He did not want to risk Fili clamming up again.

"We have learned much of your woman… of our companion on this journey, and what I fear is that her mind is too often close to my own thoughts. You have said that we two are equally stubborn, but much of her reasoning has been very like my own, even if we seem to disagree more than we agree on anything." Fili sighed. "She does not hesitate to speak her mind, and the fact that she has been silent while I lead is only because I have gone much the way that she has chosen, until now…"

He hesitated to say more, but this was not the first time that he had second-guessed confiding in his brother, and the last time had caused him no end of grief. If he could not open up his heart to Kili, then he was no true brother.

"I have had my doubts," Fili admitted. "I had them before we left Ered Luin, but I told myself that loyalty to Thorin was more important than anything else. Now, I am no longer certain that our uncle's path is the right one. We have all been close to death on this journey, some of us more than once, but the road to Erebor will be long and dangerous, more so than the petty quest that we are on now, and the greatest danger lies at the end of it. What of the dragon, Kili?"

"What of it? I suppose that Thorin has a plan."

"Does he? I think that he does not want us with him because he, too, knows that we may be killed by the dragon or by any number of other dangers along the way. Two weeks ago, I would have said as you do, 'what of it?' and I would not have hesitated to risk my life, but can I risk yours, little brother? The purpose of this adventure was to win a place in our uncle's company. That was my plan all along, was it not? And it was I that pulled you along with me."

"You pulled no one," Kili told him. "I would have come even if you insisted on leaving me behind." But he thought on what his brother had said.

When they were young dwarf-lads, he and his brother had made up tales of adventure for themselves, and dreamed of one day going out into the wild. But the adventures of their youth had rarely involved anything more dangerous that climbing trees and fording streams. Death in battle was honorable, but even Kili had seen the grief in Balin's eyes when he spoke of his friends who had fallen before the East Gate of Moria. Thorin seldom said aloud the name of his own brother who had died so young, and Dis had never forgotten the loss.

Kili knew that this was something that had long troubled his brother's thoughts, but he did not understand what had brought it all to the surface now when there had been many other chances to speak of Erebor and the dragon before they had left the mountain.

"What does this have to do with Betta?" he asked. "I think that she would be glad to send you off to the dragon's dinner bowl, more so now that you have insulted her. But, even if she does not celebrate to see you go, you have already thought of these dangers, she would hardly be saying anything that is new to you."

"I do not know," Fili said. He did not know what any of it had to do with the woman in their company, but he knew that it did. He remembered the dream that he had had the night before they let Ered Luin. Most of it was lost to him, but there had been a dragon and fire and the death of many dwarves, the death of his own uncle. It troubled him, though he reminded himself that he did not believe in dream omens.

"As strange as it seems, I find myself caring what she would say," he admitted. "It is one thing to ignore the doubt in your heart when it is put to the test; that is the difference between a brave dwarf and a coward. But to dismiss the concern of… of a friend… that is less easy to do." He shook his head at himself. "Perhaps she has been right all along, and I am only a fool of a dwarf."

Kili laughed. "Well, I have been saying that for years," he said, putting his arm around his brother's shoulders. "I also say that you worry too much. We have not even finished one quest and already you are declaring the second a failure. Call Betta back to the fire. Tell her about Erebor or not as you wish, but make her feel welcome for once! Call her friend to her face, and try to imagine how you would feel if you learned that your ancestors had fled the Great War as cowards. She is as angry and confused as you are over her own doubts and fears."

Fili winced. It would be a blow to any dwarf's honor to run from battle, although he doubted that the human folk took such things very seriously. And yet, Betta had been proud of her uncles and brothers and their prowess in war.

"You call her back," Fili said. "We may have a truce, she and I, but I was not kind to her. She does not like me any better than she did at Ered Luin."

Kili rolled his eyes. "I begin to wonder…"

"What do you say?"

"I say that I will fetch her for you, but I wish that you two would do your arguing in daylight. It seems that we must always do everything at night but sleep."

* * *

**I've got a busy weekend planned, so you're getting this installment early. I know it's starting to feel like a bit of a soap opera around here, but I promise there will be more action and adventure soon!**

**-Paint**


	45. Chapter 45

Kili muttered to himself as he stomped up the hill, following Betta's tracks in the snow. His brother was a stubborn dwarf, but the journey was wearing on him more than Kili would have expected.

This was not the first time that they had been away from the mountains for more than a few days. They had many times journeyed up and down the Blue Mountains and even so far as Bree, but always they had travelled through populated lands and had been in the company of other, older dwarves who had looked out for them. There had been little food and less sleep on those journeys, but there had also been the prospect of a hearty meal at the end of it.

Even so, Kili could think of no reason why Fili would behave the way he had these past few days. He had clung to his suspicions of Betta too long and too stubbornly for it to be practical and, even after his heartfelt confessions tonight, Fili had still refused to walk up to the woman and make peace. Could it be what Fili had said, that there was something about the land they were in that was affecting him. Harandir had called it haunted.

"Whatever the reason, the next time he asks, I will refuse to go," Kili muttered to himself. "Let him make his own apologies, for I will not play the messenger any longer."

He had reached the crest of the hill. It was a tall hill, and he could see far down onto the plains. He looked south, back toward the old bridge which was far too far away to be seen. Remembering the crossing and what he had seen there, he felt a shadow pass over his heart. Betta stood a few yards down the hill from him, her back to him and giving no sign that she knew he was there. She had walked far enough to be out of sight of the camp, but not so far that she would risk losing herself in the snow.

She stood, arms crossed against the cold wind with her body turned toward the plains, but when he stepped up beside her, he saw that she was not looking downhill. Her face was raised up to the sky. She was looking at the dim moon and her eyes searched for the few stars that could be seen between shreds of black cloud.

Kili stood beside her, but she said nothing and did not look at him. "I should apologize for my brother's harsh words…" he began.

"Your brother should make his own apologies, if he regrets his words at all," she said. "I do not hold my breath waiting for him for I do not think that he does. But I do not blame you for the things that you brother has said," she assured him, and then she sighed. "And, although he was wrong, he was also right; I do keep secrets from you, from both of you."

"You seem to think I should be surprised by that," he said, smiling.

Betta stared at him, but he only smiled wider and thought that perhaps his brother was right and the two of them were more alike than they were different.

Kili smiled and eventually, inevitably, Betta gave in and returned his smile. "Why can your brother not be as forthright as you, Kili," she said. "He would earn more friends if he learned to smile the way that you do."

"He might earn more," Kili agreed, "but they would not be better nor more loyal than the ones he has earned through his actions, and those friends he has in plenty. When you have earned a smile from Fili, then you will know the worth of it."

"Perhaps," she said, unconvinced, "but he is not in a smiling mood tonight."

"Nor am I, though it may seem otherwise," Kili told her. "It is a strange night, and there are whispers on the wind." He did indeed hear whispers, but he closed his ears to them and thought instead on what his brother had told him.

"Fili thinks that you do not like him," he said.

"He is after gold and adventure. Those things he will have in abundance if our journey is successful. And if we _are_ successful, then he will have much more of my liking when we finally part. What does it matter to him now whether I like him or not?"

Kili frowned. "He is not only after gold," he said. "And he is not only after the goal which he keeps secret from you. You misunderstand my brother. He is stubborn and strong minded, and it is in his nature to lead others, but like our uncle, Fili has no desire to lead the unwilling. I wonder if that is not why you so easily find your way under his skin. He believes that you follow him unwillingly."

"I did once," she admitted. "But now… I suppose that I would be more willing to follow your brother if I knew to what place he led us, for I know that his goal is not on my map. But that is a secret that he will not share, and I do not ask it of you. I always keep my word. I did not lie when I said that I will leave your brother to his secrets so long as he leaves me to mine."

Betta shook her head. "You have spoken like a true brother," she told him, "but Fili and I are doomed to argue. That will never change unless the world does."

She turned her face away, but not before Kili saw in her eyes the same stubbornness and regret that he had seen on his brother's face. "That I cannot speak to," he said, "but for now, I believe that Fili has no more desire to dig up old secrets than you do. If you return to camp, he will start no more arguments tonight."

Betta nodded, but made no move to return just then. Kili was satisfied to wait. He had more on his mind than his brother's bickering. The ominous clouds overhead reminded him of the tattered black shapes that he had seen skirting over the snow on the night of the storm so few days ago.

"Since we are speaking of secrets tonight," he said, "I would tell you something that I have kept from you. But it is my own secret to tell, and not my brother's."

Betta turned back to him with interest.

"Three days ago, you asked me what it was that I saw when we had crossed over the bridge and I looked back. To answer you, I must tell you what I saw five nights ago when you and my brother were lost in the snow and I was left alone to guard the ponies."

"I was reluctant to speak of this until now, and I had nearly convinced myself that I did not see it… until we crossed the bridge. Now that we have come to this haunted land, I wonder if it would not have been better for me to speak sooner. As much as I would like to confide in my brother, Fili is not a superstitious dwarf. But you… you said once that you camped in the ruins of Tharbad. Even among the dwarves there are stories of that place though we seldom cross the river there."

Betta shivered and pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders. "There are stories in Gondor as well," she said, "but I guess that even dwarves would be reluctant to speak of such things unless they were warm and safe under their mountain. I spent two nights upon a broken bridge, gathering my courage to make the crossing, and two nights is more than most can claim but it was not courage that kept me there.

"In daylight, those ruins are strange and full of whispering noise, but at night mist crawls through the flooded streets and every stair descends into shadow, and then…" She shook her head to shake the memories away. "No, I will not speak of that here."

Kili frowned and looked down at his boots. "You need not," he said. "I do not want to hear it, but I must tell you what I saw five nights ago."

And so he told her of the howling of the wind that was too much like the crying of a voice. He described the ghostly shadows that he had seen flying from Evendim into the northern lands where they now stood, and finally he told her of the shape that he had seen perched upon the banister of the old bridge after they had crossed it. A shadow had hung there like a tattered cloak billowing in the wind but there had been no man or support beneath to hold it up. Like a flag of death, it had seemed to him then.

Kili told his tale and fell silent, expecting Betta to laugh at him, or at least to tell him that he was a fool to let his eyes play such tricks on him in the storm or at the bridge, but she did neither of those things. She listened to what he said without interrupting and afterwards looked out from their hillside thoughtfully.

"I might also say," Kili added, "although it is not something that I have seen, to me this land _feels_ haunted. When I have sat up on watch while you and my brother sleep, I have felt eyes upon me, but when I turn, there is nothing. The Ranger was right, I think, and there is sorcery lingering here. Yet I do not say, as he did, that we should abandon our purpose. No, I do not say that, but we must take care as we go farther north."

"That we certainly must do," she agreed.

He nodded, and then he looked up at her in surprise. "Do you believe what I say, then? You need not lie to me if you do not. I would rather you told the truth. All I ask is that you do not tell my brother what I have told you. Fili does not believe in ghosts."

"Neither do I believe in them," Betta said. "The ghosts of Men are taken into the West; as are, I have heard, the spirits of Dwarves."

"That is what our stories tell us."

"But I do not _dis_believe in haunted things," she went on. "I have seen much that is strange on my long walk over Middle-earth. I have seen what others would call the ghosts of men, but there are things in this world that have no name and that no man has seen. I do not pass judgment upon them, but I do hope that they will pass us by."

"And you believe that I _did_ see something," he said. Relief coursed through him. He had worried for days that he would be thought mad if he told anyone what he thought he had seen.

"I believe that you saw something," she assured him. "And so do I now." She pointed down the hill toward a patch of flat land in the south. "But those are not the ghosts of men or dwarves. The spirits of the dead do not run on four legs."

Kili had been searching Betta's face, but now he turned and looked where she pointed, shielding his eyes from the green moonlight. Perhaps two miles from the hill where they stood, he saw shapes running across the ground, dark and small in the distance but coming swiftly near.

"Wolves," she said. "At least a dozen. Probably more if there is a pack, but they move to fast to count."

"I do not need to count them to know that there are more than we can defend against, camped where we are and with three ponies to guard." Kili frowned as he watched one of the wolves stop and turn. It looked up as if it saw them, and then it howled. When it ran on it turned its course northwards and the rest of the pack followed.

"Look! They have our scent. They are following our tracks and coming straight for us! There is no cover in these hills."

"Certainly there is no cover here where we stand," Betta agreed. "I think that we had best get back to the camp and warn your brother." She said this, but she made no move to go. She looked down at the wolves and frowned. There was something in the way they ran that did not seem right to her.

"They do not move like any animal that I have seen before," she said.

"Whatever their breed, their teeth will be sharp upon our necks," Kili said. "We must go!" He took hold of her coat and pulled her down the hill after him, stumbling through the snow.  
.

At the bottom of the hill, Fili sat and sulked beside the dying embers of the fire. He held Betta's pearl in his hand and rolled it between his fingers, but he was not looking at it. His thoughts were dark and shapeless, and he felt the same eyes upon the back of his neck that he had felt every night since they had crossed the bridge, boring holes through his skull like a hot, iron bit.

There was nothing there, he told himself, and so he did not turn to look. He did not see the shape that separated itself from the dark shadows upon the hillside just beyond the circle of their camp. A great, shaggy wolf with gleaming eyes and moonlight reflecting off of its long, sharp fangs crouched down and made ready to spring upon the unsuspecting dwarf...

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**Yay! A new chapter! I'm about as excited as you guys, 'cause this one almost didn't happen ;-). Are you tormented by the suspense or yawningly bored because you know... you just KNOW I wouldn't kill off a main character (...or would I?).**

**Let's see some love in those reviews :-D That's what keeps me on the edge of _my_ seat!**

**-Paint**


	46. Chapter 46

"Fili!" Betta shouted.

"Brother, behind you!" Kili shouted louder.

Hearing him, Fili jumped to his feet. He did not stop to ask what they were shouting about but drew his sword and spun around. He saw the animal between the hills, crouching down as it prepared to spring. If he had waited another moment longer, it would have sprung upon him and killed him with its heavy paws and sharp teeth, but now it saw that Fili had reinforcements on the way and it hesitated.

Kili came running down the hill with his sword drawn and a small axe ready to throw. Betta was behind him. She carried only her small knife, but her shout was loud and angry. In the empty wilds of Enedwaith, she had learned that when there was nowhere to hide, the only defense against wolves was courage and the show of force. If you were lucky, and they were not very many, and not very hungry, you might be able to scare them off.

It seemed to be true here as well, for the wolf was looking back and forth between them, reconsidering its chances now that its prey had weapon in hand and help coming.

Kili had reached the foot of the hill and gave a shout as he charged, sword in hand. Fili, too, now that his brother was there shouted aloud and moved as if he would also charge the animal, but their enemy had made up its mind. It retreated back into the shadows of the hill and seemed almost to vanish in the dark.

Kili skidded to a halt and Fili rubbed his eyes, wondering if they had tricked him. What little moonlight there was lit their clearing with an uneasy light, but between the hills on either side was dark shadow that could not be pierced even by keen dwarf eyes used to the pitch black caverns under mountains. Betta arrived at the camp with Kili, but Fili took her arm and pulled her back between him and the sheer northern wall. He was still looking into the dark, searching for shinning eyes; both dwarves knew that this was not the end of their troubles.

"You are not hurt," Kili asked his brother, sheathing his sword and taking up his bow and quiver.

Fili shook his head. "What was that thing?" he demanded. He saw the fear on Kili's face and was surprised. One hungry animal no matter how fierce would not affect his fearless brother in such a way.

"Wolves," Kili said. "There might be dozens of them. We saw them from the hill, but could not count their numbers." He pointed back the way they had come.

"These tracks are too large to be made by any wolf," Fili said, kneeling down to examine the disturbed snow at the edge of their camp.

"Wargs, then," Kili said. "Obviously they are dangerous."

"These are not wargs," Betta said. She had followed Fili to the edge of the camp and was also looking down at the tracks.

The dwarves looked at each other anxiously, but there was no time to ask where she had come by her information. Fili kept his sword in hand and began to gather what baggage they had that was not already piled under the hill. He kept his eyes on the two paths, east and west, that led to their small clearing.

"Move the ponies to the wall behind us," he told Betta. "The north side is not tall, but it is steep and must guard our backs as it may. We have no time to find cover elsewhere."

Kili had already taken out what wood they had and thrown it on the fire that was already laid. He coaxed the embers to burning again and then built two more hasty fires on either side of the camp, but they had not enough branches to make a strong barrier to attack. And what they had would not burn long enough to outlast a pack of hungry wolves.

Betta pulled up the stakes that tethered their ponies near the foot of the southern hill where they had been munching on grass and now huddled together, shivering with fear. They felt the change in the air and allowed themselves to be led behind the fires. The ground under the northern hill was hard, and it took all of her strength to sink the first stake through the frozen dirt and tie one pony down.

Then suddenly, on the other side of the southern hill, but still too far close for comfort, a wolf howled. Long and low and terrible was the sound, unlike any animal that the dwarves had heard before. They tightened their belts and tested their weapons, preparing for a long and hard battle.

The ponies neighed and pulled at the reins in Betta's hands, but she held on. She sank a second stake, but before she could tie the next pony, the first wolf appeared.

It came jogging between the hills to the west, following the same path that their small company had followed only hours before. First, there was only one, a thin creature more like in appearance to a dog than to a wild wolf, but it was larger and its hair was long and shaggy. Its eyes were red with blood. It stopped when it saw the camp and the two armed dwarves, and it sat back on its hind legs to regard them with uncomfortably intelligent eyes, seeming to gauge their strength and weapons, weighing their numbers against the might of its own pack.

Kili aimed his arrow at the wolf's chest and Fili drew his second sword. "Stay behind me, Betta," he called over his shoulder. "This is no task for your small knife."

Betta heartily agreed. She knelt down to tie the pony to its stake as the clouds parted above the clearing and the waning moon shone down onto their camp. It reflected with a sickly sheen off of the twin blades in Fili's hands. The wolf lifted up its head and howled at the moon.

If the sound had been terrible before with the hill between them, now it froze the blood and sent their ponies into madness. A chorus of howls answered the first, echoing up from behind the south hill. The ponies screamed and reared up, shaking their heads and pulling at their reins in Betta's hand. She had not had time to tie two of them, and this time when they pulled she could not keep her hold. Both animals broke free and fled, running as if they were being chased by the raging Carcharoth himself with the flaming jewel in his belly.

"Whoa! Stop!" Betta cried, but they did not hear or listen. She leaped after them, clutching at the reigns as they whipped through the air, but even if she had been able to catch hold, she could not have stopped them and would only have been dragged along in their mad flight.

Fili and Kili looked on but could do nothing. Kili dared not take his arrow from the string, and Fili could not sheath his swords that must be ready to defend his brother. Beyond the firebreak, the lead wolf still sat and growled as it watched the ponies escape. It made no move to give chase but raised its head again and again it howled. Out of the darkness, the other wolves came. Six of them appeared and sat in a line before the firebreak. They howled and the sound was so loud that it rang between the hills and Betta covered her ears.

The third pony that had been tied screamed with the others and reared up. When they fled, it had bucked and pulled at its stake but could not yet break free. Betta clung to its bridle, speaking calming words, but her voice was strained and her heart pounded in her chest. No stake could have been stuck deep enough to hold the animal when all six wolves howled together. It broke its tether and flung Betta aside. She fell to the ground, throwing her arms up to cover her head as the pony galloped over her. Only luck saved her from being trampled under its hooves.

Kili did not take his eyes from the wolf, but Fili saw her fall and he clenched his jaw, knowing that he could not help her. He was glad when she stood up again, but saw that she held her right arm against her side. She drew her knife in her left hand and turned her back on the ponies. They were lost and the wolves not yet defeated.

Fili turned back to the lead wolf, readying himself to fight. Their ponies were gone, and with them went any chance that he might have sent Betta and his brother away. Kili would wish to stay until the bitter end, but if there were indeed a whole pack against two dwarves, with ponies Fili might have been able to stall them and convince his brother to escape with Betta who was injured and could not have fought even if her arm were healed and strong. There was no escape now.

The wolves had seen the ponies galloping away, but not a paw was lifted to give chase. All eyes were on the dwarves and Betta, reflecting the flames of the fires. By that sign alone, Fili knew that they were no natural animals. They were no warg that he had ever seen, either, for their coats were tattered like shadows and their mouths dripped blood like slaver. Their teeth were longer and sharper than those of a common wolf. The leader, large but yet smaller than the others growled and, as if that were the sign they waited for, the others began to close in upon the camp.


	47. Chapter 47

"Kili, shoot them!" Fili shouted, but his brother needed no encouragement.

The first wolf fell with an arrow in its chest. Kili's second shot found the eye of another, but for each wolf that fell and did not get up, another arrived to take its place. They appeared from the thick dark night that lay behind the leader, and each howled as it trotted out to join the attack. The deaths of their pack-mates did not seem to affect these wolves as it would a natural animal, but that was little consolation to the dwarves; natural or not, they came into the circle of firelight and their red eyes focused on the company with a hungry determination.

In fact, the wolves came on so steadily, that the dwarves were hard-pressed to keep up with them. Kili shot his arrows as quickly as he drew them, and each arrow killed another wolf that came within the line of their watch-fires, but one he missed and it darted between the fires to snap at Fili's arm.

Fili pulled back in time to save his flesh, but the wolf's jaws closed upon the sleeve of his coat. With the sword in his free hand, he cut its throat, but the jaws were clamped tight and he had to pry them apart with a knife from his belt.

Not far from him, at the other side of the camp, Betta had pulled the largest burning branch that she could find out from one of the fires. When a wolf nosed its way between the fires to her left and growled at her, she swung the branch into the animal's face. It yelped and fell back, shaking sparks from its eyes. At least so far the animals seemed to be deterred by the fire, and they retreated, but not for long.

While the wolves hung back, Kili shot two more with his arrows, and Fili killed another with a knife thrown from his arm, but more wolves continued to appear. They came in ones and twos, stepping over the bodies of their pack-mates and the small shape of the leader could still be seen, sitting patiently between the hills and looking on without a sound. In the flickering firelight, Fili thought that he saw the animal wag its tail as if this were a game to be played and not a battle between life and death.

"What do these damned creatures wait for!?" Kili cried as he drew his sword and cut the throat of a wolf that came too close for bowshot. "Why don't they attack all at once and get it over with!?"

"There are enough of them," Fili said, "and they do not seem to care how many we kill. The night is young, and I have little hope that the daylight will scatter them… if we live long enough to see it. They will wait until our arrows are spent and our fires fail."

"They will not have long to wait for that," Kili said, eyeing the fires dubiously. It was not yet midnight, and they might burn their baggage and spare clothes as well as the wood, but even that would win them at most another hour before death. "What arrows do you have, Betta?" he asked, not turning to look for her. "Mine here are nearly spent."

"I have many, but they are among the baggage," she said, holding out her burning branch. The wolf that she had scorched still growled at her from beyond the fire, and she was not eager to turn her back on it to go in search of arrows.

"Get them," Fili told her. "I will guard your back."

She glanced at him, and there was doubt in her eyes. He knew that she doubted him, but she did as he asked. Kili moved to the east side of the camp which was closest to the lead wolf, and Fili covered their western flank. The line of the firebreak was too long for two dwarves to cover easily, but they had little choice in the matter.

The remaining wolves were trotting back and forth beyond the fire, and Kili shot another that strayed too close. A second that crept unseen along his left side did not make it past Fili's sharp blades that flashed and cut the air like lightening. The pack had not attempted the steep rise behind the camp, but with each pass they made before the fires, they trotted higher and farther up the northern hill, testing the limits of the dwarves' defenses. Kili killed two more than came around the back of the hill, but he had only three arrows left in his quiver and did not dare to waste them on an easy shot, not when Fili was using his blades so well against them.

Betta searched among the baggage; she knew where Kili kept his spare arrows. She opened his pack first and retrieved the bundle, untying the string with shaking fingers. Almost as soon as she had unwrapped them, Fili snatched them up in one hand and dropped them into the quiver on his brother's back with a well-practiced turn. He swung back again to slice open the exposed belly of a wolf that leaped over the fire toward Betta.

It landed beside her where she knelt in the snow, spilling its innards in red and yellow, and its teeth gnashed together as it struggled to reach, injured as it was. She used her knife to cut its throat and kill it, but she looked around at their besieged camp and knew that the battle was lost. There were too many wolves and too few dwarves. At least a dozen of the animals lay scattered and slain, but a dozen more waited beyond the firebreak, a seemingly unending supply.

Betta picked up her bow and pulled the belt of her quiver over her head and shoulder so that the arrows lay at her side within easy reach. There was little that she could do that the better weapons of Fili and Kili could not, but Kili's bow was too large and would sooner break her small arrows than fire them. Betta had no sword to make bloody, but she refused to die while she had arrows left unspent.

"What do they wait for!?" Kili shouted again, his voice growing desperate as yet another wolf fell to his arrow and was immediately replaced by two more.

Fili did not answer his brother. He thrust his left sword into the chest of one wolf and with the pommel of his right sword broke the skull of another as it nipped at his outstretched leg. His arms ached and the smoke from the fire burning upon wet snow was blurring his sight, but he could not take a moment to rest. There were too many wolves and too many directions from which they might spring upon him or his brother.

He searched for some means of defense, but there was no cover in this open space, no trees to climb or precariously perched boulder that might be sent crashing down into the midst of the pack. Without ponies, they could not ride to freedom, and if they fled on foot they would be easily picked off by the faster four-legged devils. There were no dwarves or even elves in this land, no hidden army to ride out to their rescue, and as Fili accepted this, he knew that they had no hope. The fire might burn for an hour more, but sooner than the flames went out, they would burn too low to be a deterrent to any animal, wolf or rabbit.

There was a brief pause in the attack of the wolves, and Fili looked at his brother sadly. He saw that Kili's arm was trembling with the effort of bending his bow again and again – but still Kili continued to put arrow to string. He would never see any end but victory. Kili fought on and did not hesitate. He did not wonder which of their company would be the first to fall to the wolves, leaving the others to defend a broken body.

But Kili would not be the one their uncle blamed when they did not return to Ered Luin. No messenger would arrive to tell Thorin that his nephews had died bravely in battle. Their bodies would lie open on the ground for scavengers, not enclosed in royal tombs of stone.

Fili looked over his shoulder and saw behind them near the rise of the hill, that Betta stood with her own small bow in her hand, but the arrow she held hung loose from her fingers. She was looking at the fire and the foes that surrounded them, and when she looked at Fili, he saw in her eyes that she, too, knew the battle was already lost. She had no more hope than he had that they would survive the night.

Not knowing why he did it, Fili lowered his sword and took a step towards her. He opened his mouth to speak, to say some comforting word before they were past all words.

"Fili, get down!"

Fili dropped to his knees and ducked his head just in time. Three of the wolves had climbed the steep ridge behind their camp. Creeping through the darkest shadows, they had not been seen until they leaped down into the camp from above. One sailed over Fili's head just as he ducked and then fell to the ground, dead with Kili's arrow in its throat.

There was no time to celebrate the near-miss. A second wolf leapt down between the brothers. Fili rose to his feet, cutting left and right with both swords and a burning anger in his heart. If Kili would not give up, then neither would Fili, not until death itself came between them.

Blade met fur and flesh and cut through bone. Kili shot down the third wolf from above and, falling, it landed among their baggage. Betta stumbled aside and out of the way just before it would have landed on her. She shook her head, dazed and, like Fili, shaking off the part of her that had given up while there was still life left in her. With her bow and arrow in one hand, she took up the burning branch again and swung it at the wolves to beat them back so that Kili could continue to shoot the others.

Fili cut a wolf's throat and, as he turned, he looked beyond the firebreak and saw the lead wolf finally stand up from its place between the hills. As if it were the sign that they had waited for, every wolf that was still beyond the firebreak rushed the camp. More leaped down from the hill above them and fell, heedless of the steep drop. Fili's swords sang as they cut the air and the enemy, but try as he might, he could not carve a path to his brother's side. The smoke was thick, and he could no longer see Betta through the melee. Her burning branch lay smoldering in the snow. He could only hope that she had not yet fallen.

The lead wolf crouched down, and now it leaped high over the fires and the fighting, dying bodies of its pack. It leaped up high and came down upon Kili like a bolt from the sky.

Fili cried out, but he was too far away. His brother could not hear him over the noise of the growling and snapping wolves. Kili's back was to the danger, and he did not have time to raise his arrow or turn before it had come down upon him. He fell under the weight of the wolf and was crushed.

"Kili!" Fili shouted, certain that he had just seen his brother killed.

At the same moment that his brother was struck down, Fili heard the twang of a bow and a sharp cry of pain, Betta's cry. He turned, expecting to find that she, too, had fallen under the fangs of a wolf, but she was still alive and crouched down against the north wall of the hill, bent down on one knee and holding her right arm. There was pain on her face but no wolves were near her.

There were no wolves to be seen anywhere in the camp, Fili realized.

He turned back to his brother and saw Kili lying under the body of the lead wolf, but it seemed to have shrunk in size. It was now no larger than one of the wild dogs that prowled the sparse woods near Ered Luin. Fili approached it warily and saw one of Betta's crooked arrows shot through its eye so deep that only the tail end of the feathers stuck out.

The hills around their camp were silent, and the only wolf dead or alive was the body of the leader cast over Kili's still form. The bodies of the wolves that they had slain had vanished and Kili's arrows lay scattered over the snow that had been churned up by a great battle, but there was no enemy to be seen.

Kili groaned, and Fili dropped his swords to run to his brother's side. With a cry of grief, he heaved the wolf's body off of him and pulled Kili onto his back. He touched his brother's cheek, pushing dark hair back from his pale and bloodless face. Fili wiped the tears from his eyes and put his ear to his brother's lips, but he felt no breath and heard no sound.

"Kili! Brother, wake up! For Durin's sake, say something to me. Kili!"

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**And so ends my first attempt at writing a real action sequence. Hope you enjoyed :-)**

**-Paint**


	48. Chapter 48

Fili took hold of his brother's shoulders and shook him, but Kili's eyes stared up at him, blank and unseeing; there was no sign of life in his body

"Wake up, Kili!" Fili shouted, pulling his brother into his arms and holding him tight as if he thought that by strength alone he could hold his brother's spirit inside his body.

Betta stood by and watched them in silence while tears burned in her eyes from the pain of her injured arm. When she saw that Kili would not wake, her bow fell from her hand into the snow, and she turned her back to give Fili his time alone to grieve. She knew that he would not want her there, and she did not wish to be told again that she was not a dwarf and would not understand them – she understood the pain of loss too well and had seen all to much of it in her time.

Fili had not cried since the death of their mother, but he felt the tears falling wet and cold upon his cheek. He cursed in every language he knew and wished that he knew more, but there was no balm for the pain in his heart.

"Wake up, Kili, or I swear by Durin I will kill you myself!" he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, but the hills were silent and his only answer was the sighing of the wind and his own panting breath.

And then, Kili coughed. His body shuddered and his legs kicked out as he woke from unconsciousness. He gasped and clutched at his brother's arms, but at the same time struggled to break free of the tight embrace.

"You shall certainly kill me if you do not give me room to breathe! Loosen your arms, brother, I shall not slip away," he gasped.

Fili gave a startled cry and let go, dropping his brother into the snow. Betta heard Kili's voice and spun around to stare in amazement at the living dwarf. Surprise and relief battled each other until she was too tired to feel both and only smiled and shook her head. She refused to question their good fortune.

Fili helped his brother to lie down, and his hands shook with gladness as he loosened the belts and buckles of Kili's weapons to help him rest comfortably and breathe easier. Kili's face was yet pale and there was blood on his mouth, but it was only from a split lip and nothing more serious. The impact from the wolf had stunned him badly and nearly killed him, but only nearly. It had not killed him.

He lay still for several minutes to catch his breath, and then with a groan he sat up. After the ground stopped spinning, he stood up, holding tight to his brother's arm for aid. His breathing was labored and he winced at the pain that seemed to wrap around his chest and shoulders as tight as his brother's arms had held him, but he had suffered only a few bruised ribs and a torn cloak.

"I thought that you were dead," Fili said, not yet able to believe his eyes. He refused to take his hand from his brother's arm, afraid that Kili would fall down again and this would have been a dream.

"I am not dead, though I cannot understand why not. I feel as if I have been crushed under a very large and heavy coin-press." Kili looked at the dead wolf and frowned. "Was that creature not larger before?" he muttered, feeling the bruises on his back.

"You might have been, if the coin-press had fur and teeth" Fili said, laughing with relief and not hearing his brother's question, "but you are not a coin, and you will get over any mark that this press has left upon your body." He kicked the dead wolf and laughed again. "I think that we have seen our first bit of sorcery in these haunted hills," he said. "I, for one, have had my fill and do not wish to see more."

Kili quite agreed, but he was in no laughing mood. Never before had he been so near to death, and it shook him deeper than he cared to admit. He recognized the arrow in the wolf's eye and looked around for the woman who had shot it.

Weak and exhausted from the strain of the night's battle, Betta had gone to sit among the baggage while the brothers had their tender moment. She would have rushed to Kili's side, as well, to touch him even as his brother had and be sure that he was indeed alive and whole and not a trick of the imagination, but she knew that Fili would not want her there. He would consider her an irritation, and she would rather step aside than be turned away.

She sat on one of the bags of corn that they had brought for the ponies and held her injured arm close to her chest. Her right shoulder had been wrenched during the ponies' escape, and then the old orc-wound had torn open as she bent her bow. The pain made her light-headed, and she closed her eyes, seeing again the impossible shot that she had taken.

Her shoulder had been weak and her arm already bleeding by the time she released the arrow. Pain had blurred her sight and made it difficult to aim, but she had clearly seen Kili lying unconscious and the wolf leaning down with jaws opened wide to tear out the fallen dwarf's throat. Not hearing her own cry of pain, Betta had let fly the arrow even though her heart told her that she had a better chance of hitting Kili by accident than of killing the wolf. Grief and anger had instructed her, not reason, and indeed, until she saw the arrow in the animal's eye, she had believed that she had shot and killed her friend instead.

She heard shuffling boots approaching and opened her eyes.

"I know who I have to thank for saving me from the coin-press," Kili said. He had picked up the bow that she had dropped. He offered it to her, but she could not move her arm to take it. He set it across the bag beside her.

"That was a good shot," he said. "I shall never again speak against your arrows after this night."

"It was a lucky shot," she told him.

"Perhaps, but if it was then I wish that I had a piece of your luck. It would do more to help my aim than a hundred years of hard work and practice."

"You may think so, but _I_ hope that I have not spent all my luck on you, Kili," she said. "Next time, do not turn your back on a live wolf." But she could not help smiling at the living dwarf that she had thought dead. She reached out with her good arm and took his hand to prove that he was not a ghost. Kili pressed her hand in his and returned her smile, then he released her and she sat back with a sigh.

"I had barely the strength to bend my bow before pain loosened my hand. I could have just as easily shot you," she said as she flexed her right hand and winced. Her whole arm felt as if it were on fire.

Kili shook his head. "You may say so if you wish," he said, "but I know that is not true."

Fili had been checking the body of the wolf, making certain that it was dead and looking for clues that might explain where the others had gone. He joined his brother beside Betta, and Kili was not so dazed from the fight that he did not see that Fili's emotions were still raw. He knew that this was the best time for him to have a heart-to-heart talk with Betta. If they waited until morning, it would only give him a chance to make excuses again.

"We need no more fire," Kili muttered and left them quickly.

Fili frowned at him, but he knew his brother's mind. Fili would have rather stayed close beside Kili, cared for his wounds and not let him out of his sight until they were safely back at Ered Luin, but those were foolish thoughts that stemmed from one bitter root: that he had failed to protect his brother. It was Fili who should have guarded Kili's back, not a woman who was neither a dwarf nor his kin. But Kili was determined to have him make peace with her, and Fili's guilt would not let him refuse his brother anything tonight.

He sighed and knelt down beside Betta. "Did I not tell you to go easy on that arm," he said to her. "It was not ready to be used."

"Would you rather I had not used it?" she asked.

Kili heard and shook his head at them both as he went around to the fires and stamped out what was still burning. He salvaged as much as he could of the half-burned wood and gathered a pan of snow to set in the embers of the largest fire to melt. They would all have wounds that needed washing.

"No," Fili said. "I am glad that you did." He reached for her arm to tend the new injuries, but she pulled away. She was not eager to have his hands on her; if he had forgotten the harsh words that had been spoken earlier in the night, _she_ had not, and she was still angry.

"I must see to that wound," Fili said, impatiently, "or you may not use that arm ever again."

"See to your brother first. He is hurt, even if he is not bleeding."

Fili looked at Kili and watched him limp between the fires. He felt the guilt gnawing at his belly and knew that he deserved hard words and anger from his companions. He was their leader, and yet he had allowed himself to lose hope and be distracted in the heat of battle. And what had distracted him but the very woman who sat before him now, bitterly refusing to let him bandage the hurt that she had taken while defending his brother's life!

"Kili would be ashamed to have his wounds tended before those of the woman who saved his life," he told her. "He would be willing to do this for you, if you will not suffer my touch. Shall I call for him even though he is injured? Is that what you would prefer?"

"No."

"Then let me do this…" He unfastened her coat and cloak, and she let him.

"We should move on," she protested. "We will need better cover if the wolves return."

"It was some magic that made them appear. Now, they are gone. I do not think that they will be back tonight," Fili assured her. "And I will not allow any member of my company to march injured through the snow still bleeding. No more arguments. I will see to your wounds and then, if you still insist, we will look for different shelter and once there you can be angry with me for as long as you wish."

Betta bit her tongue and said no more. She allowed him to help her out of her coat and then, not for the first time, to ease her bare arm out of her shirt's sleeve. She clenched her fist and closed her eyes at the burning pain when he rotated her swollen shoulder. Fili winced to see the bruised flesh, remembering her pale arm that he had held to bandage that morning, but at least it seemed only wrenched and not broken or pulled out of joint.

The night air was bitterly cold and her skin was white where it was not red with new blood. She shivered and held her shirt closed under her right arm, holding in as much heat to the rest of her body as she could. Still, she shivered, and Kili appeared with warm water and a blanket to drape around her, but he did not stay. He gave his brother a pointed look, and then left to gather arrows from the snow, each time bending down with a groan for the pain of his sore ribs.

Shaking his head at his brother's less than subtle sign, Fili took off his gloves and held Betta's arm in his bare hands, chaffing his warm fingers against her skin to stave off the worst of the cold. He was glad to find that the orc-wound was not as bad as he had expected it to be. Most of the deeper cut was still closed and only the outer edges had been reopened. Her shoulder had swollen larger than his fist, and the flesh around the joint was dark blue and purple with new bruises, but around the open cut the bruises were old and yellow, healing well.

Fili washed away the blood with lukewarm water from the pot, but used a wrap of cold snow to ease the swelling of her shoulder. Betta winced and sighed, feeling the pain of her wounds but also the comfort of his healing. Fili cast anxious glances at her face and was careful not to cause her more pain than was needed, but her eyes were on his hands and she did not look at him. If she noticed that he was gentler tonight than he had been on any of the other many occasions that he had cleaned and bandaged her arm, she said nothing about it. Her face was unreadable to him except for the pain in her eyes.

Fili had _not_ forgotten the words that he had spoken in their argument, and he regretted them more now than before. What other proof did he need that she was a part of their company than that she had stood by him and his brother in battle? She had saved Kili's life even after she had lost hope of saving her own.

He finished wrapping her bandages and eased her arm back into its sleeve then he fashioned a sling from cloth that would fit under her coat. He had done all that he could for now, but when she moved to take her hand from his, he held on until she looked at him. "Thank you," he said.

"I have done nothing for you."

"You saved the life of my brother," he told her. "No one would call that nothing."

She looked at Kili, standing in the snow examining the tip of a broken arrow and pretending very hard not to be listening to the words they said. "I think that he is worth one poor arm of mine," she said.

"Perhaps," Fili agreed, "but I am glad that you still have both. And, to me, this hand is worth more than gold. Without it, my brother would be dead." He looked down at her right hand; suddenly and before she could be surprised, he bent his head and kissed her fingers. He did not know why he did it, but in that moment it felt right and justified.

"I did not save him," Betta insisted. "Your brother never lost hope. He kept us fighting. It was he who saved us when we would have failed."

Fili nodded. He was glad to see that she did not blame him for giving up hope. They had both continued to fight the wolves for the sake of Kili, just as they had sworn not to fight each other for his sake. Looking up at her, Fili wondered if Betta would have taken the same risk if it had been Fili's life in danger, but he was not jealous of the affection that she so clearly felt for his brother. Kili had a good heart, and he deserved it.

"Whether you believe that you deserve my thanks or not, you still have them," Fili told her. He let go of her hand. "And you are free to remain angry with me for the foolish words that I have spoken in the past, but I now owe you a debt that I do not ever hope to repay."

"We have no more need for a truce between us," he added, "for I will not fight nor scorn you any longer. If I do, then let my beard be plucked out hair by hair and I will walk in shame among my people. I was wrong to blame your race for my own doubts and fears, and now I say that you are worthy of being counted among the dwarves of this quest."

Betta frowned at him, working her way through his elaborate oath but where he stood apart from them, Kili snickered to himself. He heard in his brother's long-winded speech the same over-wrought style of their uncle.

"I suppose that it is a compliment," Betta decided. "I will take it as one, but you owe me no debt. I did what I did with no thought for you, only out of concern for your brother, and for the safety of our company. I have never considered us anything but equal partners on this journey."

She nodded to him and then pulled herself to her feet. She made as if to leave him there, crouched down beside the corn bags, but he looked up at her. "Equal partners only?" he asked.

"What else?"

He shrugged. "I had hoped, perhaps, that now we might be friends."

She stared at him, and it was her turn to be surprised. She looked at Kili, but he had his back to them and stood rocking on his heels, humming to himself. "I suppose that we could be friends," she agreed.

Kili grinned so wide that he was glad the others could not see it, but he also could not see the genuine and unguarded smile that Fili gave to the woman of their company. Betta was amazed, for in it she saw his brother's good-humor and a sparkle in his eye that was both mischievous and kind. But also, because this was Fili, there was something more serious to the turn of his lips that made his look not at all frivolous the way that Kili's smiles often were.

She remembered what Kili had said about the worth of Fili's rare smile and, as with his younger brother before him, she could not help but smile at Fili in return.

By the time Kili turned back to them, they had moved on to other chores, but the night seemed less dark and there was no more feeling of tension between them or of eyes watching them from the hills.

"I think that for all our trouble, this battle was well worth the effort," Kili said, as he sat down for his turn at being bandaged. He looked around at the disheveled campsite, and his mirth was lessened more than a little. "Even if it has cost us our ponies..."

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**That was quite long, but there was no easy way to break it up for you. I think this was my favorite chapter, and certainly my most favorite one to write. I hope you liked it, too, but we're not out of the woods (or out of the snow) just yet!**

**Oh, my gosh! We've almost reached 100 reviews! Which one of you will be the lucky one to hit the triple digits first? You all should get a prize ;-). Anyone who reviews for this chapter, PM me a challenge. After we reach 100, I'll pick the most intriguing idea to write a one-shot. Topics are anything you like for any characters you want! I know it's not w****orth much, but I feel like you guys should get something for being such amazing readers.**

**-Paint**


	49. Chapter 49

**There's still time for you to contribute to the My Favorite Chapter contest. Submit your review for Chapter 48, and then PM me your challenge (unless you're a rule-breaker with a really good challenge, then send it along and I'll forgive you for not reviewing!). There are a couple of interesting ones that I'm considering, but that doesn't mean it's too late for you. I'll leave it open a few days more because I know we're not all on the same reading schedule.**

**Congratulations to GregsMadHatter for being reviewer #100!**

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They slept little during the few hours that remained of the night. Huddled together with their baggage piled up for a wall between them and the open hillside, the dwarves sat themselves on either side of their guide with weapons in their hands. They continued to sit up even after Betta had pointed out that Kili was at least as injured as she, that he had fought more in the battle and so needed more rest. Fili agreed with her reasoning, but he could not very well force his brother to sleep.

Nothing more disturbed the night, not wolves, but also not their lost ponies returning and, when the sun rose the next morning, Betta and Kili stayed at camp while Fili went out in search of the animals. He would not to have gone if he had not held out some small hope that he would find at least one to carry their food and baggage.

There was little difficulty in finding the ponies' tracks in deep snow, but following them was another story. The tracks were confused and muddled by wolf prints. It seemed that several of the wolves had indeed chased the ponies after they fled the camp, but they were chased for less than a quarter of a mile before the wolf track broke off suddenly and seemed to disappear into the drifts.

Fili had begun to have his suspicions as to the nature of the magic spell that had set the pack upon them and the vanishing tracks confirmed it. Whether the phantom wolves could not exist very far from their host, or whether they had vanished when Betta killed the leader, Fili could not say. He did not like magic, prophesy or omens, good or bad, and did not spend much time speculating on cursed wolves. He went on, still following the tracks of the ponies.

Two sets of tracks galloped north over the hills, but half a mile from the camp they reared up and turned suddenly south again. Something had spooked them and, from a tall hilltop, Fili could see their trail leading away into the distance beyond sight and hope of catching. Those two, he gave up for lost, but the third pony had joined them later and it continued to run north. He followed that trail for some time but after an hour was forced to turn back. He did not like the idea of leaving his wounded brother and Betta alone for long, and the tracks that he followed were hours old. There was no fresh sign of any pony, or any animal at all and he unhappily gave up the search.

.

Two hours after leaving them, Fili returned to the camp. It was midmorning, and he was glad to find his company had been left unmolested, but he was also surprised and dismayed to see Betta kneeling beside the fallen wolf, her hands painted up to the wrist in blood. She had already skinned the fattest portions of the animal and two wide but thin slabs of flesh were laid out in the snow near to her. It was cold enough that there was little worry that the meat would spoil, if it were not spoilt already.

Fili frowned, but he remembered his oath and bit his tongue, going to speak with his brother before he demanded answers from her.

"What is this?" he asked.

Kili was also frowning and clearly not in a cheerful mood. "She insisted," he said. "And when I would not agree to clean the animal myself, then she took out her own blasted knife to do it. I told her that you would be angry when you returned, she said that you would be hungry, and I could get nothing more out of her after that." Kili scoffed. "For my part, I will not swallow one bite of that sorcerous creature, however carefully it has been cleaned."

"We have had little enough luck catching meat," Fili admitted reluctantly. He shared his brother's aversion to eating this particular animal, but after his long hunt through the hills, his stomach was growling.

He shook his head, but walked over to where Betta knelt at her work. She had done a mostly hack-job with the butchering, cutting mainly with her left hand what was a two-handed job. As he watched her work, he saw that she winced whenever her right shoulder was moved.

"You should not use that arm," he said.

"I needed two, and there was no other that would aid me," she answered, not looking up.

"How do you know that animal is not poisoned?"

"I do not," she said. Her cutting knife struck bone and jarred her arm. She hissed at the pain but did not stop her work. "I _do_ know that without ponies, we must walk through snow and cold weather, and if we walk with as little food as we have left, then we must starve."

He said nothing, and Betta continued to saw into the carcass. She threw another slab of meat onto the snow, this one more torn up than the others, and Fili knew that he was making her anxious. She was more used to cleaning small game with finer cuts, but the wolf's meat was tough. He continued to stand and stare down at her until, after a few moments, she sat back on her heels and sighed.

"You need not eat any part of it," she said, "but I am hungry. We have seen no large animals this far north, and I will not pass up any meal that is offered. If after a night or two I do not turn feral, then perhaps you will believe me. In either case, it will save our other food for you and your brother. Whatever spells this wolf suffered from I believe that they have gone from it. The meat is red and healthy, if a bit lean, and there is no sickness in it that I can find."

Fili looked at the wolf and at the arrow shaft still stuck through its eye. He was not sure that he agreed with Betta about the spells, but he trusted her word on the meat itself. She seemed to have experience with hunting in the wild while most of the meat that arrived on Fili and Kili's table had been caught and cut by other hands. He was determined to hold to the promise he had made the night before not to scorn her any longer. If Gloin or old Fror had told him that the meat was safe, he would have accepted it as truth.

"Alright," he agreed. "Kili and I will divide up our baggage to carry. Take what meat you can from the animal and char it in the ashes of the fire. You are right that we will need more food than we have, but we will not test this flesh on you. I am the strongest and have taken the least hurt on this journey. Before we set out this morning, I shall stomach a strip of it and if I am poisoned it will be small loss to you."

"Not a small loss," she said. She looked up at him. "Would it be any use to argue with you?"

"No use at all," he said. "My mind is made up. Do you doubt your own assessment of the animal? You think now that it is _not_ safe?"

"No," she said with a scowl. "No. I am right in this." She returned her eyes and her knife to the work at hand.

Fili shook his head at her but he admired her stubbornness. Not for the first time, he thought that she reminded him of a dwarf; but, for the first time, he did not reject the notion. He would not have been surprised to hear a young dwarf-lad, or lass even, answer him back in the same way. And he readily admitted that he enjoyed the sight of her wielding her knife unflinchingly and wearing blood without fear.

Although it was not widely spoken of – and generally hushed up afterwards – there were a few dwarf-women who had wielded weapon in battle. His cousin Dwalin's wife, Frei of the Blacklocks, was one. Fili had seen her once and thought her both strong and beautiful. But the Blacklocks were a different sort of folk from the Longbeards of Durin's line, and Betta might have been a soldier like her brothers, if her race and situation had not interfered.

.

That there were no ponies was news not gladly received by his brother, nor was Fili's announcement that he would taste the wolf's meat first, but Kili had not the strength to complain. He was too tired, and sitting up all night had not been kind to his sore ribs.

They had more baggage than they could comfortably carry, although there was no need to bring the sacks of corn if there were no ponies to eat it. But Kili was injured and, though he insisted that he was strong enough, Fili refused to let him carry a full share. Betta's arm, too, made it difficult for her to shoulder a heavy pack for the long march that was ahead of them. She did not argue as long and as heatedly as did Kili, but still she insisted on carrying more than Fili thought was good for her.

Even so, it was a hard choice for the dwarves to make, deciding what to bring and what to leave behind. No one suggested that they abandon the quest, not after coming so far, and all three were determined to go on. They would not be deterred by wild wolves and magic.

In the late morning Fili reluctantly swallowed a thin strip of charred wolf's flesh – the rest had been wrapped in cloth and stowed away – and then they set out, each weighed down by a full pack and several bundles.

They took all the food that they had and all the warm clothes and spare blankets. Fili carried the winter shelter, the oilskin and the rods, for the land above the hills would be deadly cold and they would not be able to camp out in the open air. What was left of their wood, they took also, though that was uncomfortably little. The supplies that they could not carry with them, Fili covered with a spare oilskin and buried under snow though he had little hope that they would ever return to retrieve them.

He led them out from between the hills with Kili following him and Betta behind them. Kili had protested this as well, insisting that the woman of their company should not be the last in line, but all agreed that Fili had the best direction sense and as the only one uninjured, he should be foremost in line in the event that they met with more danger. Betta agreed with Fili that Kili was newly injured while she had suffered with her own hurt for many days already, and for that reason he should not be last in line for fear that he might fall behind and be lost. It was only her shoulder that was hurt, not her chest or legs that would interfere with their walking.

Kili grumbled but knew better than to argue in the face of their united front. He was beginning to regret bringing them together.

The cold sun was dim in a clear sky above them as they marched on, mile after mile, stopping often to rest but always only briefly. Fili pressed them on, keeping them moving through the force of his will, and there was no sign that the wolf meat had done him any harm. He felt no difference in his body since eating it and agreed that if there was still no change through the night, they would all hold a feast the following morning. There were no songs that day, but there were also no sharp words or angry frowns between Fili and Betta, and only Kili complained of anything.

All day they marched, but it was the third day since they had left Harandir and by the end of it, when the sun was just touching the western rim of the world, they saw in the distance a towering black stone raised up upon a hillside. Arriving under it with the last failing rays of daylight, they found a wide, flat span of snow-covered road cut between the hills and passing east and west as far as their eyes could see.


	50. Chapter 50

That night the weather turned cold; or at least, it was colder than it had been the night before. The three of them huddled together under their blankets beneath the black stone and with no wood to spare, they were forced to borrow heat from each other. Betta was the most uncomfortable. Although she had grown used to lying side by side with one dwarf while the other was at watch, between two of them she felt hemmed in.

The stone marker was made of common rock, according to the dwarves, but with snow on the ground, they could not say whether it was native to the hills or had been quarried and carried in from some other place. It was very tall, nearly thirty feet from base to tapering tip, and had been polished smooth by the passing years.

At the base where it was widest, a shallow hollow had been cut on the southern side and, sitting inside it, one could look down upon the road and see far east and west upon it. Inside the hollow, upon the stone had been carved many runes and strange designs, some elegantly drawn and as fine as elf-script, others crude and chipped by primitive tools. After much conversation, Fili and Kili agreed that the crude marks seemed to be similar to the sort that the dwarves used at the junction of passages in their mountain, meant to give direction or name rooms along the many miles of tunnel underground. By the time they had made their camp, there was too little daylight left to attempt a reading of them, but they were not written in any of the common languages of the world.

With the stone at their backs, no enemy could surprise them. The moon had passed its half the night before and was on the wane, but the sky was clear and the stars shone bright as lanterns, lighting the hills around them. The hollow was not deep, but it protected them from the cold wind. Though they shivered under their blankets, all agreed that there was no need to struggle with the shelter just yet.

Fili lit a small fire for a short time only, long enough to melt what snow they needed to fill their water skins and to warm the worst of the cold out of their noses and fingers. Then, he put it out to save their wood and they sat gnawing on hard bread and tough, dried meat that tasted more like shoe leather than animal flesh. Kili still would not touch the wolf's meat, and Fili would not let Betta eat it either, not yet, though it had not done Fili any visible harm. Not yet.

As they swallowed their meager meal, Fili said that they would return to the old watch schedule, with each of them taking one third of the night, but he – and he knew his brother, too – silently swore that he would not sleep a wink that night. Betta was less worried that there would be another attack. She cared only that she paid her fair share of the hours at watch; she knew better than to lose a whole night's sleep to phantom fears.

It was less decided than accepted that they would take their time in setting out the following day. The stone was a better campsite than they could hope to find in these hills, and they did not yet agree on how to proceed from where they stood. Fili wondered if they should not return to following the landmarks on their map while Kili said that it was quite clear to him that the road would make for easier walking and that it should be their pathway east.

To march upon the open road before all eyes who cared to look was not a plan that Fili liked, less so now that they were so far north. Harandir had said clearly that the road would lead them to Angmar, and after the magic of the wolves, he was not eager to see those mountains. He would rather find another path, if other path there was.

Betta listened to them argue, but said nothing on either side. She would only agree that they must decide their course the next morning before they set out. What she thought that course should be, Fili did not ask, but he guessed that she would side with Kili. She would walk the eastward road with or without them. Betta's path had been laid long ago; and, though she might regret it, she would not turn aside.

Long after the others had closed their eyes – though Kili was still determined not to fall fast asleep – Fili sat up on watch, smoking his pipe and thinking on the past and of the future, on roads and paths and the maps that he had studied in his youth. He tried to measure the long leagues between Lebennin and Ered Luin, and from Ered Luin to Erebor in the east. The world was wide, and he had seen very little of it. He was young and had his life ahead of him, but already on this journey, he had learned new things about himself, some things that troubled him.

Though he was glad for the adventure, Fili had never loved long travel and preferred the comforts of home and family. When Thorin or Kili joked that Fili should find a wife and child, they were not only making fun. He had always been the quieter, the more firm and unwavering of Dis' sons. It was natural and expected that he would be the one to settle down and produce an heir to secure the family line, but Fili had never been as certain of his fate as others were. He had fifteen years of freedom before anyone would expect him to take a wife, but sitting upon the snow-covered hill near the haunted mountains of Angmar, and looking eastwards toward a dragon… he was even less sure to what end his path would lead him.

Fili looked at his brother. Kili held his own pipe in his hand, but he had not lit it and had refused the leaf that Fili offered. He sat with his back straight and shoulders set, but his eyes were closed, and Fili could see that his head was beginning to nod. In the last few days, Fili had seen his little brother grow older and more serious. His laughter came less often and his smiles were not so careless. If they did not return to Ered Luin with treasure, Thorin need only look into his young nephew's eyes to see that they had earned their experience in the north.

Midnight was fast approaching and Kili's chin dropped to his chest, but he had not given up the fight. His head would droop and his eyes close, but after a few seconds or at most a few minutes, he would sit up again with a start, wide awake for a few minutes more before it all began again. Fili laughed at his brother and the start and stop of his snores between waking. He remembered the old nights back at Ered Luin when he had listened to his brother's snoring and felt safe and warm at home.

Finally, he looked down at Betta as she lay between them, curled up on her left side with her back to him. She had scoffed when they insisted that she needed their protection for a second night, and he knew she did not like to sleep between them, but she had finally agreed to it. In the first nights of their journey, she would not have agreed, but she, too, had changed along the way, and her injured arm had taught her that she could not do all things alone.

Fili frowned and wondered, if Thorin had agreed to take his nephews to Erebor when they asked, if they had not needed this quest to convince him of their worth, would Betta be here now, _but alone_? Would the wolves have found her? That battle would not have lasted long without the dwarves to defend her. Or would the orcs have captured her in the hills of Evendim? They would have killed her or carried her back to their tunnels to die as a slave.

If Thorin had agreed, Fili knew that promise or no promise, he would have abandoned Betta's quest as easily as he abandoned a broken hammer, and he would have forgotten her by now.

There was a tightness in his chest, but Fili told himself that it was the hunger and the cold and nothing more. It was a dark night, and he was worrying himself with dark thoughts for no reason. Tomorrow they would march on along the road, find a treasure and return to Ered Luin before the month was out. Betta would leave them and go back to wherever she had come from, and Fili and Kili and Thorin would go east and defeat a dragon and set their throne once more under Erebor. That was the path he walked, Fili reminded himself, and no other.

Why, then, did he continue to look down at the woman of their company and feel certain that there _was_ something more than he had missed, some stop along the road that he had failed to see?

Kili jumped himself awake yet again, and this time Betta sat up with a sigh. "How am I to get any rest pressed between the two of you who hold yourselves as tense and tight as rabbits!" she muttered.

Kili grinned at her sleepily. "You might pretend that we _are_ rabbits," he suggested. "For one who has spent so much time in the wilderness, you seem very particular about the bed you lie in."

"It is not the bed, but the crowded company that I object to," she said. "You lay like a lump of rock. Is that another characteristic of dwarves?"

"Not one that I have ever heard of," he said. "Curl up against my brother next time, perhaps he is made of softer stone."

Betta glanced at the other brother, and Fili felt his cheeks flush red with more than cold. He was glad that it was too dark for her, or his brother, to see the change in color, but the moonlight was still bright and shone upon his face. He did not know what his expression was, but Betta frowned when she saw it and was troubled. She looked away.

"I think that you have hurt my brother's feelings," Fili said, to save her from having to answer Kili's poor joke. "But the two of you should sleep. We will have another long walk tomorrow."

Betta looked as if she had something to say, but she bit her tongue and pulled up her hood, saying nothing instead. He worried that the night had brought back some of the old anger in her. The northland seemed to have a habit of stirring up bad feelings, but he had not felt the watchful eyes on the back of his neck, nor any of the fears that had plagued him before they killed the cursed wolf.

Fili smoked his pipe and closed his eyes to rest them and to forget Betta's troubled eyes that had looked at him with worry. Kili was dozing off again, but Betta did not lie down. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and her cloak wrapped tight around her shoulders. Her arm was still held carefully, but Fili knew that it was secure in the sling that he had fitted for her. She was as motionless as a figure carved of stone, and he remembered the night not long ago when the sound of her singing had lulled him to sleep. She was not singing tonight. Now it was the woman of their company who tense and tight, and Fili could sense the tension of her body without needing to touch her.

He opened his eyes and saw that se was wide awake and looking down at the road, her brow knit with frustration. He wondered what worried her, but did not ask. Instead, he said, "If you are unable to rest, we might pass the time in some other way… I have a tale to tell you, if you wish to hear it."

Kili opened one eye and looked at his brother with interest.

"I thought that you had run out of tales," Betta said.

"If you spent a lifetime wandering the stony roads of Middle-earth with me, it would not be long enough for me to tell you all the tales I know. Dwarves have long memories, especially for story and song, and for the history of their kin; but this tale, I think, you would like to hear most of all."

She looked at him, and he guessed that she worried that he was only teasing her as his brother always teased her. She thought that he meant to tell her yet another legend of other dwarves and other battles that would not answer the questions she had. Fili kept his face stern and gave her no sigh of his thoughts.

She looked at Kili instead, but he only smiled and made himself comfortable for a story. He was glad that his brother had finally made up his mind to confide in their guide, but Fili was not as certain as Kili believed him to be. Although he wished to tell Betta the truth and to answer all of her questions, he did not know where to begin. Every dwarf in the Blue Mountains old enough to lift a hammer knew the tale of the dragon and the sacking of Erebor, but though the songs were often sung, the long tale of grief and loss was rarely told in full. The pain was still too near to their hearts, the loss of life and treasure keenly felt by those who had survived it.

Fili had learned most of what he knew from Dis, for Thorin only ever spoke of regaining the mountain, his words hinting at the manner of its loss when he cursed the dragon.

"You asked us once, what other mountains there are in the eastern lands near the Great Greenwood," Fili began. "What my brother would have told you then and what I willingly tell you now is that west of the Iron Hills and south of the Gray Mountains, there lies a single solitary peak called Erebor, the Lonely Mountain…"


	51. Chapter 51

"We have told you of the Great War between dwarves and orcs that was fought upon Azanulbizar before the east gate of Moria, and that the battle was waged to avenge the death of our great-great grandfather. But King Thror would never have been murdered by the cursed orcs if he had not first been driven out of his kingdom under the mountain of Erebor."

Fili glanced at his brother. Kili was watching and waiting, wondering how much Fili would reveal and as eager to hear it as Betta.

"The Mountain of Erebor was founded as a city of dwarves nearly one thousand years ago by Thrain the First, but the dwarves left it not long after for the mountains of the north. There, the dragons who have been our enemies since before the days of Azaghal, of Belegost and the land under the sea, there dragons dwelt and harried our people. After many battles and the death of his own brother, King Thror left the north and returned to Erebor.

"This was three hundred and fifty years ago," Fili added, wracking his brain for the history lessons of his youth. "It was then that the mountain flourished, growing in gold and glory. Thror ruled as King Under the Mountain for nearly two hundred years. The halls of Erebor were grand and filled with light and song. By our folk, the Lonely Mountain is counted among the great kingdoms of Dwarves. It was not as beautiful as Moria, nor as sacred as Gundabad, but it was a powerful realm in its time, admired by both Men and Elves…"

"You speak as if you have seen the place," Betta said.

Fili shook his head. "No, but I have heard it described many times by those who have. Our mother and our uncle were born there and witnessed its fall; Thorin was younger than you are now when the dragon came, and that is very young for a dwarf." He thumbed his nose at her, but his smile was sad as he thought of his uncle alone in the dark halls of Ered Luin, brooding on past wrongs.

"Some say that it was the wealth and fame of Erebor, and the hills of gold piled in its treasury that tempted the dragon out of the north. He was not the eldest, nor the most terrible of evil things that survived and bred in the Forodwaith after the elder days, but he came down suddenly upon the mountain as a storm of thunder and raging fire and laid a siege for three days, burning to ashes the town of Dale that lay below along the River Running.

"In the end, even the great gates could not withstand the heat of his wrath, and they were broken. The dragon burst into the mountain, destroying as he passed from hall to hall.

"Many dwarves were killed that day, but more than hope could guess had been saved. Some escaped to the Iron Hills, and others into the south. Our uncle, Thorin, as I have said, survived with his brother and sister, our mother. Thrain's wife, Nis, who was our mother's mother, did not escape…"

Fili hung his head and Kili, too, looked away.

"I am sorry," Betta said.

"So are we all," he told her, but he was reminded of the many losses that she had suffered in her life. He felt uncomfortable to sit before her, mourning the death of dwarves that neither he nor his brother had met in life. To them, they were only faces carved in stone or etched upon metal lockets that hung about the necks of other dwarves. In that way, Betta was more like Thorin, grieving for faces that she had looked upon and loved.

"Thror and Thrain escaped the mountain and with their surviving kin they wandered south to make their living along the northern ridges of Ered Nimrais. Later they would go west and found the settlements in Dunland which you have seen.

"Not long were they there before Thror went wandering and was killed by Azog the Cursed who was then leader of the orcs that had taken possession of Moria. And the tale of the dwarves' revenge upon Azog, and his death at the hands of our cousin, Dain Ironfoot, is one that you have heard before.

"After that battle, Thrain led the remnant of his people west to Ered Luin, but soon after he, too, wandered as his father had and was lost. No dwarf knows now where he is or whether he is dead, and Thorin has ruled in the Blue Mountains ever since. But before his father left, Thrain laid upon his son the duty to one day take back Erebor and its treasures, to reclaim his rightful kingdom and revenge our family upon the dragon that stole it. Our mother heard this oath as it was spoken, and she was not pleased. She remembered the sight of the dragon circling overhead and the fear of that day, and she worried that Thorin's oath would bring darkness and death upon our family once more. For this reason, he spoke rarely of the Mountain while she yet lived."

Kili had been listening intently to the tale, for much of Fili's speculation was news to him. "I did not know of this," he said, looking up at his brother.

"Because our mother did not want you to worry," Fili told him. "She would not have spoken of it to me, except that she knew that she would not always be able to keep an eye on her brother." He sighed and shook his head. "Many of the things she told me, I did not understand at the time. I was young and careless then, thinking that Thorin's grief could not touch us. No dragon had troubled the days of our youth, as it had theirs…"

Fili puffed his pipe and was thoughtful for some time. It was only when he looked down to see Betta still watching him intently that he remembered why he had begun the tale.

"There now," he told her, "after too much talk, I shall finally tell you what you wish to know. I do not tell it lightly, but we are friends now, are we not? And I will trust you, though other dwarves would say that I should not."

"This dwarf will not say so," Kili assured him. "He has often encouraged you to trust more."

"And he has often interrupted the tale that he so earnestly wished to hear," Fili replied. Kili grinned and gestured for his brother to continue.

"For the last several years since our mother's death, and growing in recent months, I believe that the thought of his promise has lain heavily upon our uncle. He does not speak of it openly, not yet, but those who know him well have begun to suspect that he is up to something. I think that he has often brooded on the time to come when he should fulfill the oath to his father and lead his people back to Erebor, as Thror once did. But there was always the dragon to consider and it is only recently that our folk have been well off enough that he might make the attempt."

"You see, we are not so rich as you seem to think us," he added, "and even royal dwarves must work to earn their living."

"To a woman with ten half-silver coins to her name, you seem very rich indeed," she answered. "And you are rich in family, which I no longer am…but I did not mean to offend you with my words."

"And we are not offended," Kili said. "On with the tale, brother!"

Fili nodded. "Much of what I say now I have only guessed at, but we know that one month ago, our uncle met as if by chance with the wizard Tharkun who will undoubtedly have whispered some plan of his own into Thorin's ear. He has become convinced that the time is come to retake the mountain and if nothing happens to change his mood, this very year he will set out east.

"There are some among our folk who blame the wizard for the loss of Thrain and Thror. They believe that Tharkun lit some spark under them that set them wandering – and it is certainly a habit of the wizard to do such things to unsuspecting men and dwarves. Our uncle, I think, does not believe this. Thorin knows more than he says aloud but he would not trust the wizard unless he believed that some other dark power had drawn them to their end."

Fili sighed. "Whatever has caused it, Thorin has made up his mind to return to Erebor. He will undoubtedly wish to gather an army and overwhelm the dragon by force, but it seems unlikely that one will be found." He shook his head and remembered Balin's words, that their folk were not eager for war. He knew what the old dwarf meant. Even those who still counted themselves as warriors were reluctant to return to the battlefield, not when their numbers were still so few and their homes and families were safe.

"With or without an army, he will go," Fili said. "My brother and I have made up our minds that he will not go without his nearest kin beside him, but Thorin thinks us too young and green to be of use on such a quest. And so, you see how your arrival at Ered Luin with your little box gave us just the thing we needed at just the time we needed it to prove to our uncle that we are not as inexperienced as he thinks us."

"At least we shall not be after all the trouble that we have had on this journey," Kili added.

Fili coughed uncomfortably. "Yes, well… Now, Betta, you know what my secret has been. I made up my mind almost as soon as I heard your story that I might use you for my own purpose. Our uncle has all but promised us that he will reconsider his decision if we prove our courage in the north and return with profit in our pockets."

He chewed the nub of his pipe and waited for her to be angry, but she only frowned and looked down at the road. She did not look at him, and he could not guess her thoughts.

"Believe me when I say that I have greatly improved my opinion of you in the weeks since our introduction or I would not have told you all that I have tonight," he assured her. "When first we met, I did not think that this quest would take us very far or for very long from Ered Luin. I do not know what I expected, and it has always been the weakest part of my plan. A simple quest would not convince our uncle, but a dangerous one was… not what I had planned."

"Your plans seem to have a way of going awry," Betta said. Her shoulders trembled, he thought with anger until he heard her quiet laughter. "So, this is the great secret that has caused so much trouble between us!" she said. "A young dwarf who would prove himself to his king uncle. Why not admit it from the start? We might have had an easier journey."

Fili looked at her in surprise. "I suppose that we might," he said, "but our uncle has fought in many battles and made many enemies. The name of Thorin Oakenshield is well known among the goblins of the Misty Mountains, and there are those who might like to hear that the heir of Durin's line was out wandering with a small company through dangerous lands. Thorin would not be the first King who fell prey to the Wild."

"I suppose that is true," Betta admitted.

"This is a secret that our uncle would be very angry to hear that we have shared," Fili added, "but I trust you with it now, for we are friends."

Betta frowned. "Yes, friends…" she said. "But a dragon... That is certainly not something to be taken lightly, if the old stories are true…"

Fili glanced at his brother. He knew that Betta was not a dwarf, however like one she sometimes seemed to him, and she would not understand the honor and duty of a dwarf to his kin, even in the face of a dragon. She would think their quest was a fool's errand.

"There now," Kili spoke up, "my brother has come clean to you, and we both agree that he should have done it sooner. Your journey is just one stone step of ours towards a greater quest with a greater reward, and he has been ashamed of it. Tell Fili that you are neither angry with him nor jealous of our future wealth and perhaps we can yet get some sleep tonight."

"A stepping stone, yes," she said, still only half-hearing what was said, "but one that is not safe to balance all your hopes upon. You say your uncle wants you to return with profit in your pockets, but what of that? We do not know what profit might lie in the north. Have we had adventure enough to convince him of your worth? What proof does he demand?"

"I suppose that I had hoped to bring back our promised share of the treasure," Fili admitted.

"And if there is no treasure?" she persisted. "I do not enjoy reminding you that there is only my father's unfounded belief that says there is anything but snow and stone at the end of our quest."

"There is your father, and there is this," Fili said, taking the pearl from his pocket and holding it out to her. "This says that there is a treasure there."

Betta flinched back and stared at the thing as if it were a burning hot coal in his hand. Her reaction puzzled Fili and Kili who saw it also, but the dwarves knew that the pearl had been a point of contention between them, and Fili put it away without thinking too hard on her sudden horror of it.

"If you are worried that we will abandon you and your quest if we find evidence that there is no golden reward in our future then put aside your fear," he said. "There was a time when that might have been true, but that time is not now. We are friends and companions on this journey; my brother and I shall see you through to the end. If there is no treasure, then we must hope our tales and our bruises are proof enough for Thorin."

He frowned and his gaze grew distant. His hand was still in his pocket, clutching the pearl, and there was a strange light in his eyes. He said, "I think that there will be treasure…"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, I think there will be. I have never been as confident as my brother in this, but there has been too much danger for there not to be some reward in our future. Your friend Ranger's tale has given us a clue. The people of Ankor were well-off in their time, and they came down from these hills. It may be that they have left some treasury hidden and forgotten that we are meant to discover."

"Maybe…" Betta said. She was not pleased for in his eyes she saw the same gleam that she had seen on the faces of dwarves before him when they counted in their hearts the gold that they would earn through their work. She had not recently seen it upon Fili's face, but it had been some time since he had brought out the pearl before her.

"There is something else that bothers you," Kili said. He saw the wary look she gave his brother, but not his brother's look.

"Many things," she answered, "but none that need worry your sleep tonight. I am glad to know the story of Erebor. To prove yourself to your uncle is noble motive for a quest, but I understand your desire to keep it secret. No one shall hear of this from me."

"Am I forgiven, then?" Fili asked.

She smiled and then she laughed when she saw how earnest he was for an answer. "Yes, forgiven," she said, "but you are no less a fool in my eyes."

"That I can accept," he agreed and smiled back at her, "for now."

Kili shook his head at them and thought them both great fools, but he did not say so. He rested his head back against the black stone. It was his turn to watch, but he gave no more thought to standing guard and soon fell fast asleep.

* * *

**I've been feeling very disjointed this week, and I hope that it hasn't come out in the story. I know it seems like this is a never-ending series of stories within a story, but... yeah, that's what it is. This chapter was very long again. Sorry.**

**Hope you continue to like.**

**-Paint**


	52. Chapter 52

When morning came, they were able to have a better look at the road and the stone under which they had slept. The dwarves had no more ability to read what was written upon it in daylight than they had had the night before, but Kili, who had risen before the others and gone to explore the hill around them, discovered a sparsely wooded valley from which they could cut much needed wood.

The news was gladly received by the others. Fili had shown no sign of illness since swallowing the wolf's meat the morning before and had announced that, so long as they could cook it thoroughly, it would be safe for all to eat.

With wood to burn and their stomachs grumbling, Kili's resolve was beginning to fail, and he looked with hunger at the slabs of charred flesh that his brother unwrapped and laid out in the snow. Fili smiled to himself as he kindled the fire and prepared the meat. He could see Kili's longing looks and knew his brother well. Sure enough, the first strips of meat had hardly been toasted before the scent of cooking tickled Kili's nose and brought him to the fire. He sat and broke his fast with the others.

They toasted the cut strips in the fire and ate the meat between torn pieces of stale bread. They drank their fill of warm water brewed with a handful of wilted carrot roots that had been part of the bribe of foodstuff that came from the innkeeper so long ago. It was a cheerful meal, but quiet.

After they put their bowls away, the dwarves left to cut extra wood to carry away with them when they broke camp. Betta sat beneath the stone within the hollow and stared down at her pages spread across her knee. There had never been a clear path to follow, and she had guided them mostly through luck and guess-work, but it was not hard to see that their path would lead forever north and east until it passed off the edge of the page. As she stared at the map in the dim morning light, she suddenly noticed a pattern in the drawing that she recognized and did not like.

"How did I not see that before," she muttered to herself.

"See what?" Kili asked, coming around the stone and dropping down beside her. He held his axe in his hand and was still sweating from the work of cutting wood. He was smiling, but she saw that he held his body carefully. He had strained his bruised ribs in a way that would make the day's march all the more painful. His injury put him in a sour mood and he had answered his brother back a little too sharply while they were cutting at the trees… which was why he now sat here with Betta while Fili was away tying their firewood into bundles.

"It is nothing," she said, folding her pages and putting them away.

Kili knew that he had not been careful enough. He had meant to hide his pain from his companions, but now all that he could hope was that he could hide it from Fili or his brother would undoubtedly delay their setting out. Kili was glad that, though Betta had noticed, she had not said anything; he did not like to be fussed over.

"Which way do we go today, guide?" he asked her with forced cheer. He had argued with Fili last night over this very question, and now he wished to know which side she would take.

"It is your brother who leads us," she said, "and unless you have change his mind, he intends to follow our map's guidance and not mine."

"I know what my brother says, but I wish to know which direction _you_ would choose." He scowled and looked away from her. His usually unwavering good-mood had been knocked out of him by the wolf, but he knew that it was continued more by the oppression of the high hills than by any other trouble that they had faced.

Betta sighed and looked east toward the dark, distant hills; she knew what he felt. "I would choose to follow the road, for I think that it will take us where we wish to go," she said. "Where I _must_ go," she added, "for I do not know whether I wish to see those mountains any nearer."

"Fili will follow your choice even if it goes against his own," Kili told her. "And so the question becomes, will you speak up and tell him that you have chosen against his advice? Will you take the lead this morning?"

She frowned, and did not answer. He searched her face, but she gave him nothing to read there.

"You are making some joke that I do not understand," she said finally, and then she smiled at him and shook her head, "but you will not fool me. If _you_ cannot change your brother's mind, then I certainly will not be able to do it. Fili will always go his own way, and I will not let you trick me into arguing with him over it while you sit and laugh at us."

"I do not want you to argue. I only wish to know your thoughts on the journey, without always hearing you echo back what my brother has said." Her frown returned, and he knew that he had spoken too angrily. "I do not mean to be sharp with you. I am sorry."

"Do not be sorry. You are right, but I am too tired to pick this fight with your brother, if he would even argue with me now that he has declared us friends." She frowned and looked down at her empty hands. She no longer needed to hold the pages to remember what was there.

"Fili wishes to follow the map," she said, "but his path would take us many miles north on our search for the next landmark. If we manage to find it there, then we must journey miles south again to the one after it. In these hills and with this snow, that will not be an easy journey to make. Following the map would mean going leagues out of our way, and yet our direction would still be the same. This road will take us east along an easier path – and both ways will take us eventually towards…"

She did not say the name, but he knew it. He followed her gaze toward the eastern hills that seemed to grow taller and lean down over them. "I know it," he said, "and Fili knows it, but we both hoped that there was some other way that you could find."

"There is one other way we might go," Betta said, and Kili looked up hopefully. "West, and back the way we came," she said, and his face fell.

"That road we will not take," Fili said. He stood near the mouth of the hollow, leaning back against the stone, and Kili wondered how long he had been listening to their talk. Fili lifted his hand to touch the crude carvings. "Have you yet looked at these marks in daylight?" he asked Betta.

"I cannot read them, if that is what you ask. If it is the language of my father's family, I do not know the characters, and they do not seem to have been made by the same hands that wrote upon the cornerstone of Ankor."

"I agree." Fili nodded, and put his hand in his pocket. "We must move on, but I would be more comfortable knowing what is written here. It would give us better advice for our future journey. We must now choose our next direction."

"The only direction we have is east," Betta said.

"Indeed."

There came a long silence, and Kili looked back and forth between them. They stared at each other steadily, and he knew that there was something being said that he could not hear, something beneath the words that were spoken. It was not often that anyone openly opposed his brother, and Kili wondered if he had in fact convinced Betta to side against Fili. She said they must go east, but it was clear that she meant east along the road and not along Fili's winding path.

Kili sighed. It was tiresome that he must always parse his brother's words when Fili was being stubborn, but with both of his companions working together to confound him, Kili was exhausted before the day's walk had even begun. Fili's determined stubbornness did not seem to tire Betta. She continued to look up at him without blinking.

"Then east we shall go," Fili said finally. "Gather your bags and I will help you on with them. I suppose I must help both of you now," he added with smile and a wink at Kili. "We shall set out upon this strange road of yours, Betta, and hope that our luck holds."

.

In the mid-morning, they hefted their packs and set out, carrying less food but more wood, and Fili did indeed need to help both of his companions to put on their baggage. Kili bit his tongue and hid the pain in his back, but once they were on the road, his bruises continued to ache; he was only glad that it was not the sharp pain that had stung him the day before.

As they marched along the road, they spied many small groups of bush and tree scattered between the hills where the melt water would flow on the rare days that the sun was bright enough to warm the snow. They would not lack for wood in this land, not for some time, and in the cold north that was an unlooked for comfort.

The temperature was falling, and the snow was deep, though it seemed somehow to keep mostly off of the road they were on. Still, their march was slow and wearying; they managed less than three leagues before midday when they stopped to fill their grumbling bellies. Pushing a path through the snow was harder work than riding a pony, even on a straight-cut road, and both dwarves had a chance to be glad that Betta had taken the wolf's meat when it was offered. The only animals they saw that day were birds circling high above and far out of the reach of bowshot.

After their rest at midday, Fili once again helped Betta and his brother on with their packs. This time, the weight rested heavily on Kili's shoulders, but he pretended not to notice and they set out again.

They walked through the afternoon, seldom speaking. Their heads were bowed and their back bent under their burden. Fili came first, the only one of the three whose head was still lifted for his eyes were always searching the hills ahead. After him, came Kili, wincing at the pain in his back and shoulders, but only when he thought that his brother would not see it. Last of all came Betta, her smaller feet finding the tracks that the dwarves left in the deeper drifts. She did nothing to hide the pain that her wounded arm caused her because she knew that no amount of pain would prevent Fili from marching them on until dark.

When Fili looked back, it was only to be sure that his companions still followed. He was not as blind as his brother thought him, and knew that Kili's bruises would need better tending after they made camp. Kili did not look back – his back ached too much to strain it that way – but he kept his ears open for Betta's light footsteps and knew that she was never far behind him.

For all the trouble they had had finding food for the ponies, they had never missed them as much as they did on that long day's march through unknown hills.

* * *

**Unfortunately, I hurt my hand last week and can't type more than a paragraph without painful spasms. The doctor says to lay off the mouse and keyboard, but of course I have to type for work, for home, for you guys, etc... you have no idea how frustrating it is!**

**So, updates will be less frequent until I can get this seen to - or figure out how to type one-handed without blowing out my left hand, too. Have pity and toss a review my way :-). I am VERY unhappy right now and, unlike Kili, I am not too proud to complain. Ow.**

**-Paint**


	53. Chapter 53

It was not yet dark, but Fili knew that his company could not go on much longer. There was a time when he would have pushed them further even knowing this, but the journey had changed him. He no longer cared that Kili would not complain and Betta was no dwarf; he knew that they were tired, and so he found a sheltered valley between two hills not far from the road and brought them there before the prow of the sun touched the horizon.

They built the shelter against a low ridge, for the wind had grown bitterly cold as daylight faded; the hills gave them some protection, but it was too cold to camp in the open air. Fili built the frame and Kili helped to spread the oilcloth over it, but the long march had taken its toll and he could no longer hide the pain that he felt. His chest ached when he breathed, and his shoulders were so tight that he could no longer raise his arms above his head. As they made camp, he ordered his muscles to move as they were ordered, but there was no hiding the stiffness from his brother.

Fili had said nothing yet, and Kili hoped that he would continue to say nothing. They would not last long in the wild if every bump and bruise was cause for alarm, but even he worried that these were becoming more than mere bruises.

Once the shelter was built, Kili sat down to rest his back. He watched Betta move about the camp, doing her full share of the work with one arm. The other was kept close to her side, but Kili could see that she was holding it there and that her sling had been worked loose by the taking on and off of her pack. She gave little sign of any pain, but if he watched her face carefully, he could see her wince now and again when her right arm sought to reach out of its own accord and help its mate lift and carry.

They were a comical pair of stubborn, limping fools, Kili thought, and if there were still ghosts watching from the hills, then they were probably too busy laughing to do any real harm tonight.

Fili built the fire inside the shelter under a small vent that let the smoke escape. The space was small so that, as short as the members of the company might be, they were forced to crawl in and out of the narrow entrance and to keep their head and shoulder ducked low if they moved about inside. Mostly, they sat upon their blankets. There would be only enough space for two to lie stretched out upon either side of the fire, so it was just as well that their third member would be outside in the cold keeping watch.

The fire quickly warmed the small room and only a little heat escaped through the seams in the cloth. Soon, they were sighing and slipping out of their cloaks while they ate sparingly of the wolf's meat and bread. There was warmth and warm water in abundance, but little food and less talk. Kili watched his companions as they ate and noticed that, although Betta's eyes were mostly upon the fire, his brother's gaze rested more often upon her. There had been no more fighting that Kili had heard and no chance for them to be together out of his hearing. He had no guess for what the trouble was this time, and no interest in investigating tonight.

After their bowls were put away, Fili examined Betta's injuries as he had done every night and morning for the past week. He washed the old orc-wound which was now nearly healed and beginning to pucker into a raised, red scar. He used cold snow to cool the swelling in her shoulder, but that was not healing so well, if Kili was any judge of the unhappy sounds that his brother made when he saw it. As long as she must walk and carry her pack, that sprain would not heal, but both dwarf and woman knew that she must do both. They could not spare even one arm on the journey.

There was nothing more that Fili could do but tighten the sling and remind Betta to take care. She said nothing in response, only nodded and allowed him to help her on with her shirt and coat again. She moved to the other side of the fire and took up her cloak to mend a tear in the collar. Fili frowned when he saw her using her right hand to hold the cloth, but he did not scold her for it.

Kili watched all this silently, hoping to be ignored. He sat stiffly on the hard ground and moved as little as he could to avoid bending his back, but even that was not enough and a sharp pang through his shoulders caused him to wince. Fili's attention was drawn away from Betta and he remembered that there was yet one more patient to be seen to before he went out to take his watch.

"Like it or not, brother, I must have a look at those bruises," Fili said.

"You have seen them already. They have not changed. What more can be done?"

"I have _not_ seen them, and what can be done is what I offered t do last night and the night before," Fili said, "to tight-wrap your ribs and shoulder so that you cannot always be moving them in your sleep. It will give your muscles a rest and make it easier to carry your pack tomorrow. We are far away from any wolves now, and it is not so cold inside. What other objection can you have?"

Kili frowned and glanced at Betta. She had not complained of her injuries, but he did not want her to see how badly hurt he was and to think him weak. He knew without looking that the bruising would be bad.

Fili saw his brother's glance and said, "Is that what worries you? You are too shy to have your shirt off with a woman here to see it?"

"I am not! What other objection do I need but that even with fire and shelter, it is still too damned cold?" Kili protested, but even as he spoke he felt another pang through his shoulder and under his left arm. He winced, and Fili waited, knowing that the pain would convince his brother when arguments would not.

"Have it your own way, then," Kili said, finally. "Do what you will, but I only agree to stop you from worrying. I will not have it be said that I could not stand the pain of a few of bruises."

"Remember this night the next time that you call me stubborn," Fili answered, and took out what spare cloth he had left that had not been used on Betta's sling.

He helped his brother out of his heavy coat and then to take off the many layers of shirt and shift that he wore underneath to protect against cold weather. Each garment was set aside where it would stay dry and safe from the snow.

Finally, Kili was down to his last shirtsleeves, and Fili helped him off with that as well. After the wolves had attacked, Kili had refused to have more than his coat off, and even last night when they had camped in relative warmth under the stone, he had insisted that the injuries were not severe enough to warrant more than a cursory exam.

Now, with his bruised skin bared, Betta meant to cast only a quick, assessing look at his injuries, but once she saw them, she could not help but stare in dismay. Fili's expression was grim and Kili knew that his brother would blame himself, which was exactly what he had not wanted.

His back was covered with mottled blue and purple bruises, some so dark that they were almost black. The swelling of the worst of them showed that they had gone deep into the bone around his shoulder blades and spine. Like fingers, bruises spread under his arm and around his side, following the line of his ribs until they disappeared into the thick hair on his chest. On his left side were also two round, red welts where his quiver had been crushed against his body by the weight of the wolf. Betta winced to think that he had carried his heavy pack upon those bruises for more than eight hours without a word of complaint.

Where it was not bruised, Kili's skin was pale and goose-pimpled from the cold. He would have been pale in any weather. As a rule, the only color that most dwarves carried upon their skin was in their ruddy faces and work-worn hands – less common was the color upon their forearms, but that was only among dwarves who had worked long outside their mountain homes and had rolled up their sleeves in the forges of the towns of Men. During her travels, Betta had heard rumors that there was one race of dwarves with skin as black as the coal they mined, but she had not met any to confirm it.

Weeks of hard travel and meager rations had begun to drain all three of them of their extra pounds, and there was little fat left on Kili's body to keep him warm. Even inside the shelter, he shivered.

Betta had seen her fair share of naked skin on men of her own race as they sweated in the fields or swam in the streams, and she was surprised to find not much difference between them and the bodies of dwarves, except that the dwarves were shorter and more broad about the hip and shoulder. They grew more hair on their chest and arms, she saw now. Kili was young – even if he was forty years older than Betta – and, like the beard on his chin, the hair that covered the rest of his body would grow thicker and fuller as he grew in years.

Kili was not at all pleased at being stripped to the waist in cold weather, and he was ashamed that he had not been able to suffer through his pain. He knew that his brother would be worried, but it was the anxious pity on Betta's face that brought home the sorry shape that he was in. Kili had never before been injured in any serious fashion and he preferred to forget and ignore his new weakness. Fili's face was a mask that did not show his brother how much the bruises troubled him, but Betta wore her feelings on her face, and Kili did not like it. She had no right to pity him when she had her own injury holding her back.

Fili had begun to lay cloth with cold snow over the worst of his hurts. He sighed and had to admit that the pain was eased, but Betta still stared and frowned at his body.

Kili cleared his throat. The sound startled her from her thoughts, and she raised her eyes to his face. There was no pity there now, only surprise and guilt that she had been caught. Fili looked over, and when she saw him, her cheeks flushed red with shame. Kili was sorry that he had called attention to her. He had to admit that he had done his fair share of staring when her orc-wound had been fresh and bleeding.

He smiled and would have spoken, but she turned away. "I will keep watch while you work," she said, taking her cloak and ducking out of the shelter past Fili. She did not look at either dwarf as she left.

Kili sighed, and then he looked back over his shoulder at his brother and had to laugh at the look of utter confusion on Fili's face; there was concern there, too, but the confusion was the most comical.

"It seems that I am not the only one who is shy," Kili said.

"You should not tease her that way."

"Did I tease?" he asked with feigned innocence. "I said nothing! You were the one who made the first joke. Is it my fault that you are no good at it? Get on with your bandaging, brother, and be glad. Next time it may be you who must sit bare-chested while our guide stares, and you are not so good looking as I am."

Fili shook his head at his brother but began to wrap the cloth. "You should have spoken up sooner," he said. "These bruises go deep into the muscle."

"Why speak up? We have nothing to heal this sort of injury, and I did not want you to worry."

"I will always worry too much about you, little brother," Fili said, putting on a smile, but he did not like the look of his brother's back. Kili was right and there was little that they could do about it here but wait for time to do its work. He took care that the wrappings were not too tight and that the folds lay flat so that they would not become uncomfortable during the night, but he still saw his brother wince at the pressure.

"And I only meant that you should think before you speak, Kili," he said to distract his brother from the pain of his already painful bruises. "I know that it is not easy for you, but this is not the first time that your jokes have made our guide uncomfortable."

"Ouch! Go gently there! I would hope that you cared more for _my_ comfort," Kili said. "You are the only one that I have seen being made uncomfortable here, and it is _you_ who I tease. You have been against Betta all this time because she is not a dwarf, but that is exactly why I enjoy her company."

"How is that?"

"It is no fun to be always stared at by dwarf-women and know that they are not looking at you but at the rich life that they might lead as the wife of Thorin Oakenshield's nephew."

"Take care," Fili said, laughing. "I understand that the women of her race marry more often for money and status without love than do dwarf-women. You do not know what Betta thinks when she stares at you. Certainly, I have never been able to guess what is in her mind, though I have often tried…"

"It is a burden, being the more handsome brother," Kili sighed, "and one that will only grow harder to bear once we have the wealth of Erebor and a kingdom to inherit. I do not wonder that Thorin never married when every would-be wife is counting gold coins behind her eyes. But none of that will trouble your heart. You have never noticed any lass that once made eyes at you. You do not see them fawning over your braids and blond hair. Have you not heard, Thris has already declared that she would marry no other dwarf but Fili?"

Fili shook his head. "Thris is a child, barely fifty years in the world. She will have another fifty to regret her choice, or to change it, before she is ready to marry anyone."

"Perhaps," Kili agreed. "And Betta would be a child if she were a dwarf, but she is not, nor does she look for marriage in the north; I would bet money on it. But I have never seen you blush so often as you have upon this journey, therefore I say that we need _more_ jokes. Our guide laughs often enough, but that is more than I can say for you."

"There is little reason for laughter," Fili said. He did not like the tone of his brother's conversation and sought to change the subject. "You talk of Erebor as if that quest is already over. Think of where we are! We make our journey through a black land and every day that we tarry here is one day closer to Thorin leaving us behind. Which would be worse, I wonder, to miss out on the quest to Erebor completely, or to find upon our return that our uncle has postponed his leaving in order to search for his missing nephews?"

"They are both unhappy prospects, but I prefer to think of Thorin's proud smile when we return to Ered Luin laden with gold and sea-jewels."

Fili could not hide his smile at that. Kili could always find the bright side of a tarnished coin. "Alright," he said, "think on our uncle's smiles if you wish. He has always had more of them to spare for you, little brother."

"Only because he still thinks me a child. But you are very like our uncle, and you hoard your smiles like a dragon hoards his stolen gold. If you are not made to be more free with them, then you shall end up a grumpy, old dwarf like Fror with a sour-faced wife."

Kili looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Betta has noticed it, too," he added, and winked at Fili's red cheeks.

"Now you are being foolish," Fili said. "Head forward, Kili. I must tie this straight or you will sleep with a knot in your back."

But Kili did not put his head forward. He continued to look at his brother, searching his face. "It was good that you told her about Erebor," he said.

"It will only be good, so long as our uncle does not hear of it," Fili answered, his eyes on his work. "You were right to trust her when I did not. Is that what you wish to hear?"

"It is not often that you admit to your mistakes."

"Because I do not often make them." Fili tied the last knot and helped his brother on with his shirts and coat. "There. Does that feel secure?"

"Yes. Very much better," Kili said with obvious relief. "You might have been a healer if your bedside manner were improved. Yet I think that someday you will make a proud dwarf-woman very happy with your gentle hands." He was joking again, of course; Fili's hands had been anything but gentle.

"The dwarf-women will have to wait," Fili said. "I have no intention of taking a wife tonight, and not for many long years to come."

* * *

**Thank you so much for the well wishes and patience while my hand heals up. You guys are so lovely. I started writing QtF over six months ago thinking that no one would read it. I still find it hard to believe that anyone is, yet you keep on reviewing! It means a lot to me, and I promise that even the little things that you comment on do help to inspire and shape the future chapters of this story.**

**I hope that you continue to read, review and enjoy, and that this story will continue to be worth your time here.**

**-Paint**


	54. Chapter 54

After ordering his brother to lie quietly for once, Fili ducked out of the shelter and stood upon the hillside for a moment while his body grew used to the sudden cold. He had wrapped himself up in as many layers as he could, but it was still a shock to feel the sharp, chill wind on his face. His breath was a white cloud before his lips that tangled its fingers in his braided beard and whiskers. It was a clear night and, although the waning moon had yet to rise above the line of hills, its glow could be seen like a halo behind the eastern ridge and the light of the twinkling stars reflected blue against the snow so that the shadows tremble like shivering ghosts between the hills.

But Fili did not believe in ghosts, and the thought of them did not trouble him as much as the memory of his brother's words and winks. Kili seldom stuck so stubbornly to a single joke; however trapped they were in the north with little entertainment, it was strange.

Fili looked up and saw Betta several yards away from him, perched in a snow bank and looking out toward the road. He followed the path that she had forced up the hill until he stood beside her. Once there, he saw that, although she looked toward the road, she did not seem to see it. Her gaze was distant and her brow furrowed in pensive and apprehensive thought. She did not look up when he approached.

"My brother has been wrapped in tight bandages," he said, "and he will undoubtedly be grumbling all night, but I must still order you inside to join him. It is too cold for you to sleep with me here."

"I will have my turn in the cold soon enough," she said, rubbing the feeling back into her legs before she stood.

She turned to leave, her eyes carefully lowered so that she did not look at him, but before she could go, Fili reached out his hand. He stopped just short of catching hold of her arm, remembering a moment long ago and far away when he had touched her for the first time and she had pulled a knife on him. She made no move toward her knife tonight, only waited patiently for him to speak.

Betta stared down at his hand, but when he said nothing, she looked up, finally, and met his gaze. She asked, "Was there some other order you wish to give?"

Fili searched her eyes, but they were stone, gray walls. He wished that he could better understand the thoughts hidden behind them. He had often wished that he knew her mind at least as well as he knew his brother's; it would still be better than he knew his own when he looked at her.

"Fili?" she said, interrupting his thoughts.

"No, no orders," he said quickly, taking back his hand and putting it safely behind his back where it would cause no mischief. "I must apologize for my brother's bad jokes. You heard him laugh as you went out, but be sure that he was not laughing at you."

She smiled. "I do not mind his jokes or his laughter. I have heard far worse from far worse men, and your brother does not mean what he says." Her smile quickly disappeared, as if she saw something change in his expression, and then she added, speaking slowly, "I think that you are the only one who believes that he is teasing me with his jokes."

"Even so, I do not want you to be made uncomfortable."

She had been frowning, but now she seemed troubled. "There was a time, not so long ago, when you would not have cared at all for my comfort," she reminded him.

"But that time is not now. Now, we are…"

"Friends. Yes, I know," she said, a little too sharply, and then she sighed and looked away from him. "But being friends with a dwarf is new to me, and I do not know what that word means among your folk."

It was Fili's turn to frown. "What it means to me," he said, "is that I would know what troubles my friend, and whether or not I might give her some little comfort in a dangerous land. What are your needs, and how might I satisfy them? I cannot always be guessing at an answer, but it is more than hunger and a hurt shoulder, I think."

"No," she said. She shook her head. "It is nothing more than that."

They stood in silence, and Fili wondered if there was something else he should say. There was clearly something that she expected him to say, or else why would she not have said good night and left him to his watch? Instead, she stood still, looking at the blue hills above and below them and at the darkened sky.

"I am tired of this land," she said suddenly. "I miss the green hills and the trees, the rivers running over stone. I miss being warm at night and letting my bare arms breathe the free air under the sun without all this cloth in between." As she spoke, she pulled angrily at the sleeve of her heavy coat and winced to move her injured arm. "I am tired of the cold and being bound up against it. I feel trapped by all this snow!"

She let out a deep and heartfelt sigh such as he had never heard from her, and then she glanced at him anxiously, confirming that she had let slip some secret feeling that she had meant to hide.

What the secret was, he could not guess, but he nodded just the same. "That, I understand," he said. "I miss seeing bare rock and stone without so much snow to cover it. It has been a long journey, in feeling if not in days, but though I cannot give you the green grass again, I will say that I think we are nearing the end of the journey and we will soon be on our way home."

"I do not think so," she said. She looked out toward the road again and passed her hand over her eyes. "I wish that I had your confidence, Fili, but I do not feel near the end of it. It seems to me that there is another longer and a darker road ahead of me, beyond the northern hills. I do not like it. It tastes of death. This quest was to be the end of all things, and if it is not, then I am too tired to go on walking."

Forgetting himself, Fili took her hand and pressed it in both of his. She looked at him in surprise. He did not like words of ill-omen, but told himself that it was only as she said: she was tired and too caught up in dark thoughts. He wished that he could comfort her but he was out of his depth.

He remembered his brother's words and took care to smile as he assured her, "There will be no more walking tonight. I will take my watch now, and satisfy for you the one need that I can. I give you gladly to your rest. If he is still awake – which I am certain that he is – then ask Kili to tell you some terrible joke about me, and that will cheer your thoughts."

Betta nodded and returned his smile, but he saw that it did not reach her eyes. She took her hand from his. "At least I may be thankful that I travel with dwarves," she said, speaking as if it were a line that she had long rehearsed, "for I know that your brother only teases and does not mean what he says. If I traveled with Men of my own race, I could not trust them and would long ago have been made more than uncomfortable by their words and looks, but we here are all friends, are we not?

"I hope that you have a safe watch," she said, and then left him to it.

Fili watched her walk down the hill and duck into the shelter. He frowned, puzzling over her last words which had felt so much like his brother's confession that he could not help but think that they came from the same source, but he did not understand what source that was.

He sat down in the snow and looked out at the hills, searching for danger in the dark shadows even though his senses told him that there was none out there tonight. Almost, he wished that something _would_ attack and distract him from his confused and conflicted thoughts. He felt sure that something important had happened, that he had missed it and now it had gone beyond retrieving.

* * *

**Well, I'm all healed up, but still taking it easy. This chapter was ready to go, so I'm posting it a day early, but I expect the next one will be up on Monday. With a little luck we'll be back to twice-a-week updates after that. **

**I know that some of you have begged for updates more frequently, but it is literally impossible for me to write this any faster and still keep up the quality of the story. I'm already spending more time than I'd like trying to beat the next few chapters into submission. They are not cooperating.**

**-Paint**


	55. Chapter 55

Inside the shelter, Kili was stretched out on his blanket, one arm thrown over his eyes and the other hand pressed against his ribs as he breathed through the tight pain of his bound injuries. He shivered in the cold wind that slipped through the flap of oilcloth as Betta entered, but he did not look up or give any other sign that she had returned.

She sat down on her blanket across the fire and, looking at him, remembered the uncomfortable events of the evening.

It had been impolite to stare at Kili's bruised back and shoulders but, like Fili, Betta had not realized until she saw how badly injured he was. Unlike Fili, she did not blame herself for Kili's pain that day; she had made the same choice as he to put on a pack and march under the pain of bruises without complaint. She had been impressed by his strength and determination to suffer under so much hurt, but she had not blushed to be caught staring at a shirtless dwarf.

Not that she had any intention of correcting the brothers' mistake if that was why they thought she left. She was not easily embarrassed by naked men – whether Men or Dwarves - not after she had helped to raise five incorrigible brothers; and indeed, she had stared at Kili for only a few moments before her thoughts had turned to something else, a passing fancy that troubled her more than seeing Kili's bruises.

In fact, she had ceased to see Kili at all. As she had looked at one brother, her thoughts had turned to the other, and a simple question had occurred to her that was harmless on its own. She had wondered whether Fili was as like to his brother in body as he was in face and voice.

When Kili had coughed and drawn Fili's attention to her, Betta had blushed with shame not for her actions but for her thoughts. It was one thing to think of a man that way – she was a woman in the prime of her life and no quest could take that away from her – but to think that way of a dwarf and of _this_ dwarf! It was impossible!

Fili had seen her blush, and she had seen something in his eyes that she did not like. It was the same greedy and possessive gleam that she saw when he spoke of gold, the same gleam that reminded her of the greedy and grasping dwarves that she had met during her travels. Had he guessed her thoughts? She had escaped from the brother's company as quickly as she could to be sure that he could not.

Once she had reached the safety of the hillside, Betta had laughed at herself for allowing her imagination to get the better of her reason, but when Fili had joined her and they had stood alone in the cold, he had offered her comfort and there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. There _would_ have been no mistaking it if she had seen it in the eyes of a Man, one of her own race, but Fili was a Dwarf with little love for any folk that was not his own.

Fili was being kind to her, which was strange and very unlike him, but she had saved his brother and he was grateful for it. His careful attention to her injuries, his offer of comfort and his smiles were only awkward expressions of friendship and an overwrought sense of duty. If Betta saw more than that when he looked at her, it was because she was tired and had been out in the cold too long. And if Fili's hands had begun to tremble when he touched her bare arm to bandage her wounds, then it was because he was cold and the strain of the journey was wearing on them all.

Kili groaned, drawing Betta from her thoughts, and he opened his eyes. He looked over at her. "Do not tell my brother, but I shall be lucky to sleep at all wearing this wrap. He tied it too tight and I cannot breathe."

"Would you like me to untie it for you?" she offered.

He shook his head. "No, he is right and for all the discomfort that I feel now it will heal better this way." He cast a furtive glance toward the entrance to the shelter as if he thought his brother were crouched there, waiting to hear him admit to it. "Do not tell him I said that, either."

"Your secret is safe with me," Betta said. She lay down on her blanket and looked up at the stained patterns on the oilcloth. She listened to Kili mutter to himself as he turned this way and that, trying to find a way to lie comfortably. There was no worry that she would be keeping him awake, and so she asked, "Could you explain something to me?"

He sighed and lay still. "What is that?"

"Your uncle, what manner of dwarf is he? You have said that Fili is like him in many ways, and I know that your folk have strong ties to their kin, but Fili says that Erebor is lost. I do not understand why any of you would risk the wrath of a dragon for that. What sort of man would risk the lives of his kin for any kingdom?"

"Which question shall I answer first?" Kili said. "I suppose that you are right and that it is a fool's errand to seek Erebor while the dragon yet lives… Fili thought that you would say as much once you knew our plans. But we are not Men, and you do not reckon upon the selfish nature of a dwarf when it comes to what he deems his own. Any kingdom, you say? Not any, but _ours_… or at least, our uncle's. Thorin would be King under the Mountain if it were not for the dragon – do not think that he has forgotten it even though a hundred years should pass. And Fili would be a prince in line to inherit a mountain of gold. He would not be, as he often thinks himself, a beggar-dwarf forging trinkets for men who would not know silver from tin."

"He certainly does not give one the impression that he thinks himself a beggar," Betta said quietly. "Then he is truly a prince to your people? But Thorin is your uncle, not your father."

"Fili is the elder of us two, and Thorin has no children of his own."

Betta frowned unhappily, but Kili did not notice. He was thinking to himself of many things. He had always been glad to be born the younger brother with all the rights and hardly any of the duty, but he had seldom bothered with wondering what it was like to be the elder brother. Fili had always been more serious, more reliable and more responsible, but was that his nature, or had he become that way because it was expected of him? If Thorin had had a son of his own, what life would Fili have led with the freedom of being only a cousin to the king rather than his heir?

"It is true that Fili is very much like Thorin," Kili said, thoughtfully. "They are both gloomy and far too serious, and both are too stubborn for their own good. But Fili is also very generous. If there is gold at the end of our journey, he will do right by you and not attempt to cheat you of a single ounce. It is not my place to say, but I think that Thorin values his gold more dearly than is right, even for a dwarf. But in that he is like to his father and grandfather… or so I have heard it said. I never met Thrain or Thror."

Betta had sat up and was listening with great interest, and Kili could seldom resist an audience. He was proud of his brother and had few chances to talk him up when they were at Ered Luin among other dwarves who knew him already and would only roll their eyes at Kili's bragging.

"Fili values his rights, in his own way, and he is held in high esteem by the dwarves of Ered Luin. That is why he is so stubborn to follow his own will and does not eagerly take the council of others. He is the eldest brother and Thorin's declared heir; that comes with a great deal of responsibility, and it is a title that I am glad I do not hold, but I know that Fili will live up to it. He was born too late to take part in any of the great wars, but perhaps with this quests and the journey to reclaim Erebor, he shall earn honor enough to equal his pride and the respect that he is due."

Betta frowned and shook her head. "I did not know that your people were so…" She searched her mind but could not think how to explain her feelings there. Pride and stubbornness were not traits that she highly valued, having watched helplessly as they brought low her father.

Kili saw the confusion on her face, and he smiled. He would have raised himself up on his elbow to look at her, but his wrapped ribs would not let him do it. He settled for turning his shoulders and looking around the fire at her. "You have traveled farther than most of your kind, and have many more dealings with dwarves than them, but even you must realize that your experience does little to help you understand our folk. The face that a dwarf would show to you is not his true face; we are a secretive people."

"Some of you more so than others," she said, thinking of the honest way that Fili had begun to smile upon her, and the open gaze he had given her upon the hillside not long ago.

"All of us," Kili insisted.

She shook her head. "Then you think that I should not trust you or your brother? How do I know that you have told me the truth if your people wear such masks as you describe?"

"Well…" Kili hesitated. "There are dwarves, and then there are dwarves, as you must have seen, and not all of our folk are respectable. Very few of them would have agreed to your quest, and not all of those could be trusted to keep their word if there was found-gold at the journey's end, either." He could see that she was not convinced and quickly added, "My brother _will_ do honorably by you. I promise you that. You have no reason to doubt us. I can think of not one other dwarf that would have trusted you the way my brother and I have done."

"And why have you trusted me?"

Kili lay back and looked up at the roof of the shelter. "For my part, I do not know. Fili would say that it is because I am young and foolish, but that is no answer. Perhaps it is because, when we first met, you had your secrets also and you guarded them well; in that, you are more like to a dwarf than the other tall folk that I have met. Fili has said it, too, that you are like a dwarf-woman, and I find it strange that he would think so."

That was no proper answer, he knew, but she did not press him on it. She sat and he lay in silence for some time while the fire crackled and burned low.

"You also asked why Thorin would risk his kin to regain his kingdom," Kili said to break the circle of his wandering thoughts, "but that answer you know already. He _would not_ risk our lives. He refused to take us with him when we asked to go because he wished to keep us safe, and we are here now with you to prove that he _must_ take us. A better question is why my brother and I are determined to follow our uncle east."

"Then I shall ask, why are you?" she said.

Kili smiled. "Because Thorin is not only our uncle. If he were it would be enough, but he is also our lord and would be called King if he had not refused to carry that title with him into exile. He is proud and grim, more so than Fili, and smiles even less than my brother smiles. You would be afraid to confront him the way that you have Fili! But Thorin is a good ruler of our people at Ered Luin. He has seen them through many hard times and that alone should earn the loyalty of all his people.

"Would you say that is reason enough to follow him toward probable death?" Kili shook his head. "If it is not, then I cannot answer your question. Thorin is our uncle, and our mother's brother. We have no other family. If he seeks the dragon, then Fili and I will go with him. If he still refused to take us, then we shall follow him, dogging at his heels. We will fight and die beside him if that is what must be. There is no other way."

Betta looked up at him. "You surprise me, Kili. I would expect to hear those words from your brother. With him there is never any other way but the one that he has chosen."

"You do not know Fili as well as you think you do if you believe that there is no doubt in his heart."

Kili frowned and looked over at her again. "Why do you search for the roots of your father's family tree? You were not close to him. Your kind has never been strongly tied to their kin, and yet you risk yourself here for a family line that you know nothing about. You might have made a new life in warmer lands, for I do not doubt that you are strong enough to do. Why did you chose the northern road?"

He was smiling again, but Betta gave his question serious thought. "I suppose that, like you, I saw no other way," she said. "Perhaps I searched for a treasure that I did not think would dwell in the southern lands…"

Kili searched her face. "You seem to doubt your choice tonight," he said.

"If you think that, then you do not know my heart so well," she said, shaking her head. "I know my choice was right and it is something else entirely that causes me to doubt. I wonder if I will be strong enough to see my part of this journey through until the end, and my doubts are not lessened now that I find I have brought two friends along with me into danger.

"As you have said, you did not bring us. My brother and I forced our way onto your quest."

"You did, but that does not change my mind about it." She sighed and thought of Kili nearly dying between the jaws of a wolf, and of Fili's soft lips lightly brushed against her fingers. "I have not met your uncle, but I wonder if I do not understand better than you his reasons for denying you and your brother a place on the journey to Erebor."

Kili frowned and lay back on his blanket. He thought of his brother, out alone in the cold and wished that Fili had been there to hear their conversation. Betta's words might have improved Fili's opinion of her, and Fili certainly would have had a better answer to her questions that Kili had.

"Well, I might at least say for you that you do not lead my brother and I on to face down a dragon," Kili said, laughing. "I do not look forward to that part of our future quest, and I am glad that Thorin has kept his plans secret. That sort of gossip has a way of travelling faster than tongues can wag, and it would not do to learn too late that the devilish worm has had word of our coming."

"No. No, it would not do…" Betta closed her eyes and thought of the words written on the back of her pages, the story of a precious sea-jewel that was not what it seemed to be. Now would be the time to come clean, to tell Kili what she knew and what she guessed. He would be sympathetic even if Fili were angry. There was a good chance that the brothers would give up the quest once they knew what lay ahead of them in the north, but at least she would have repaid their friendship with honestly.

And yet, she could not bring herself to do it. She had grown used to their company and could not bear the thought of continuing east alone. She turned on her side with her back to the fire and willed herself to sleep, but her dreams were troubled and she had little rest before Kili woke her in the early morning hours and she went out to take her turn in the cold.

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**Hi. How are you? I hope that you are having a really lovely day. Do you know what makes my day lovely? Reading your generous reviews. After all, isn't that why we're all here? I give you a chapter, you give me a review. It's a tidy little system we've created, very well balanced, very economical, but if you don't hold up your end of the deal, then the whole thing just falls apart, doesn't it?**

**-Paint**


	56. Chapter 56

The next morning the company was grim and silent as they prepared for another day's hard labor. The sky overhead was overcast and the mountains seemed nearer and darker than ever before. There were many cautious looks cast between and among them as they swallowed that morning's crust of bread. It was too little food to call a breakfast and once the bowls were put away, it seemed to their grumbling bellies as if they had not broken their fast at all.

Betta and Fili were both distant; each avoided looking in the other's direction and their conversation was restricted to the packing up of the camp. Kili was absolutely confounded by it, but under the dreary sky, he had no intention of investigating. He was determined that whatever new feud had arisen between them, he would keep well away from it and leave them to work it out for themselves.

Of the three of them, it was usually Kili who greeted each morning with cheerful chatter, but that day, he was quiet. The low clouds and dark hills seemed to smother all sound and when he bid his brother good-morning, his voice sounded strange and hollow in his ears. He was reluctant to speak again but made sure to smile as often as he could to prove that he, at least, was in no foul mood. He did not even complain when Fili resolved to tighten the wrap around his chest and said that he should wear it during the day as well to support the weight of the pack on his shoulders.

When it came time to change the bandaging on Betta's orc-wound, however, they found that she had learned to be stubborn. She refused to sit down for it.

"It is not needed," she insisted.

Kili bit his tongue as his brother pulled tight the last bit of cloth and tied it in place. "It _is_ needed," Fili said. "That is no scratch or clean cut you have there. An orc-wound needs tending or it will become infected."

"It might once have needed tending, but no more," she said. "You saw for yourself last night that the wound is healed and closed over. Even the scab has begun to fall away; the itch of it is insufferable. There is no better proof of healing than that! I need no more tending, and, what is more, I want none."

If she had stomped her foot and pushed out her chin like a child, Kili would not have been surprised, but she did neither. He had been prepared to laugh at her stubbornness and shame her into giving it up, but although she stood with her feet firmly planted in the snow, her eyes were cast down and to one side. She did not look at either brother. If he had not known better, he might have thought that she was not so resolute in her purpose as her words made her seem. Seeing her reluctance, Kili felt sure that she must have some good reason for refusing, but he could not think what it might be.

For his part, Fili was astonished at the sudden change in what had come to be a regular part of his morning and evening routine. He kept his eyes on Kili's bandages. "Your shoulder still needs healing," he reminded her. "If you think that it does not, then lift your pack with it and we shall see."

She glanced at the pack and shook her head. "But my shoulder needs no bandage."

Fili sighed, and then he nodded. "No, it does not," he agreed. "It needs only the sling, which you will let me tie for you, at least? If it is the cold that bothers you, you need not take off more than your coat."

Betta was reluctant to do even that, but she could not argue the point any further without earning their suspicion; Kili already sat half-naked in the cold and he did not complain of it.

"If it will silence you about the other, then yes, you may do that," she said, "but _only_ that."

"I am not so deft a hand that I could sneak a bandage onto your arm without you knowing it," Fili said.

Kili had his clothes back on, and Betta took her turn allowing Fili to adjust the long cloth that wrapped around her arm and shoulder. She sat nearer to the fire than to him and he had to lean forward to reach the knotted cloth, but the fire was still lit and he reasoned that if she were cold, she would wish to be nearer it than to him. He had a difficult job of tightening the sling – her body was as tense and tight as a bowstring – but he made no comment and focused on the work.

Kili sat apart from them and watched them with interest and no small amount of concern. He had no intention of admitting to his brother all the things that he had let slip to Betta last night about Thorin, and about Fili himself, but he suspected that Betta's changed mood this morning had more to do with that than with any coldness in the air. He had assumed from the start that she knew the brothers' royal status among dwarves, and that she understood the importance of the title that Fili was set to inherit, but perhaps he had been wrong and she had not fully realized the weight of it. Certainly, Kili himself was only beginning to understand the responsibility that his brother bore as heir to the great Thorin Oakenshield.

Once the sling was tied, Betta put on her coat and left the brothers. She went to stand upon the hillside, her face turned eastwards towards the rising sun that was all but hidden behind grey clouds. She frowned as she looked up at the mountains in the distance.

"The clouds seem darker in the east," Kili commented after they had taken down and bundled up the shelter.

"They do," Fili agreed. He put the last few items away in his pack and all that was left was to heft the baggage onto their shoulders and set out for the day's march.

"We are walking straight towards them today," Kili added.

"We are."

Kili sighed and shook his head. "Alright then, be as grumpy as our guide, but we need food. It is a wonder that we are not all as short tempered as she is today. We cannot cut our rations more than we already have and if I tighten my belt another notch I shall be split in two."

"I know it," Fili said, and he sighed. "We might have to give up a day's walk to hunt for game instead, but I do not like to do it. Anything that we find will hardly be worth the effort of hunting and cleaning it. We have not been on this journey long, but I feel the need to hurry…"

"We are hurrying towards starvation," Kili reminded him. "There are not many trees here, but there have been more as we go along. We should keep our eyes open for a larger wood between the hills where we might find some winter-loving animal to hunt or trap. I feel that I could bend my bow, but I doubt there will be anymore open ground to lay out Betta's net."

"No. There is too much snow in these hills," Fili said. He remembered Betta's words and looked up the hill to where she stood. He followed her gaze eastwards and thought that he saw a flash of lightening among the darker clouds. How far were they now from the old fortress of Carn Dum? Not far enough, Fili thought, and that was enough to dampen any mood.

"Would you like me to retrieve our guide?" Kili asked, but Fili shook his head.

"I suppose that it is my turn," he said. Ignoring his brother's exaggerated astonishment, he walked up the hill and stopped beside her. "Are you ready to begin the day's march?" he asked.

"More than ready," she said. "The sooner we set out, the sooner we shall reach the end of it."

There was a shadow over her face, and he frowned to see it, but nodded at her answer and turned to go down the hill again, thinking that she would follow. Suddenly, surprising him, Betta reached out and caught hold of his sleeve. He stopped and turned back to her but, just as suddenly, she let go and pulled her hand away, looking at it as if it did not belong to her.

"I am sorry," she said. Her cheeks were red and she did not look at him. "If I was too sharp before, I apologize. My grandmother would be ashamed to hear that I argued with a healer."

"She need not be _very_ ashamed," he assured her. "I am no proper healer." He raised an eyebrow. "Will you let me see to your arm now?" he asked.

"No."

"Will you tell me why you refuse?"

She searched his face for a moment, and then shook her head. "No."

"Then we are still at crossed-purposes, but I am not angry. It should come as no surprise to anyone that we should continue to disagree even if we do not fight."

"I am not surprised by it," she said, and then she smiled and laughed, pointing down the hill. "We should move on. I think that your brother is growing impatient."

Below, near the baggage, Kili was pacing the camp and had worn a wide circle in the snow with his shuffling feet. When Betta returned, he told her what had been decided, that they would look for a wood to hunt and even give up a day to it if such a place was found. She did not argue against the need for food but it was clear that, like Fili, she regretted every hour that was lost in their journey east.

The company was in a better mood, barely, as Fili helped his companions on with their packs. Betta felt certain that hers was lighter than it should have been – lighter than it would have been if only the little food from supper and breakfast were missing – but she said nothing about it. As his own burden was settled onto his shoulders, Kili glanced at her, and she knew that he, too, felt that the weight was lessened, but Fili's face was set in stone as he put on his much heavier pack. He would suffer no more arguments that day.

In the early morning, they set out and walked for hour after hour without speaking. Ahead of them, the mountains of Angmar seemed to march forward to meet them. Before, as the company had walked or rode, they had often left some distance between them, even up to several yards in clear weather when there were no obstacles in the road, but now they huddled close together near enough that they might each have reached out to touch the shoulder ahead of them or back to touch the arm behind.

Fili and Kili looked from side to side as they marched, searching for any copse of trees greater than a dozen boles, but Betta kept her eyes above. There was no sign of animal tracks nor even a bird in the sky. They were utterly alone in the barren north and only Forodwaith could have been more dangerous to them than the land that they now entered.  
.

The road was straight-cut, but every league or so it would veer suddenly south and pass in a wide circle around some particular hill or mound. There was no reason that Fili could see why one hill would be cut through and another avoided, but there was an ill-omened feeling to these places, and the oppressive air would thicken like a lump in his throat as he led his company past. More than once, he felt the need to look back to be sure that Betta and his brother were still with him and that they had not disappeared.

Just after midday when the sun was at its peak, there rose up in front of them a steep mound that was taller than all the others but its head was sheared off suddenly at the top. From the road, Fili thought that he saw a crown of blunt stones set about the rim of the plateau, but as he looked closer he had the terrible idea that they were not rocks but the black teeth of a gaping mouth that opened wide to swallow the sun as it was passing overhead. A shudder ran through him from the back of his neck to the tips of his toes and he would not have been surprised to see the whiskers of his beard curling up in fear.

"They are barrows," Betta said. She had been walking behind Kili, but now Fili looked round and saw that she stood beside him and his brother had fallen back a few yards behind her.

"You recognize this devilish thing? I would bet pure gold that it is no natural formation."

She nodded. "They are burial mounds. I have seen them in Rohan, and in the north of Minhiriath, but these are so large…" She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun and looked up at the stone teeth. She did not shudder, but her face was sad. "How many men must be buried there…? A whole army, it would seem."

Fili looked up at the stones again, and wondered that any folk would be so pitiless as to bury their dead in the ground and leave them to be tread upon by passing strangers. Again he felt a shiver run through him.

"I thought that you did not believe in ghosts," Betta said, seeing his pale face. "This quest has changed you."

He tore his gaze from the stones to look at her and was strangely comforted to see no fear reflected in her eyes. "Has it not changed you?" he asked.

"Yes, in many ways…"

She might have said more, but Kili had caught up to them and he had heard their words. "If men are buried here, then I say do not disturb them." He spoke in a hushed voice. "Let us walk on, and walk more quietly!"

The company hurried past in silence. Or, in almost silence. Fili thought that he heard Betta singing softly behind him, but though he tried to make out the words, he could not be sure that it was her voice even and not the wind whispering in his ears.

In spite of the frightful barrows, the company walked openly upon the road that day; there was no hope of hiding in the northern land. The snow showed their tracks too clearly, yet they did not dare to make camp more than a stone's throw from the road for fear of losing it. The darker the sky grew and the deeper the snow drifted, the more the gray hills matched the gray clouds above; every clump of tree or bush looked the same as the one that had come before it, and if Fili had closed his eyes and turned around three times, he would have lost his direction until the sun or stars came out again.

That night, they curled up under the winter shelter and ate their meager meal. Betta still refused to have her orc-wound tended, but Kili no longer hesitated to bare his skin and he did not care who looked, for he wanted the bruises healed as quickly as possible before danger found them again.

By the light of their cooking fire, Betta worried over her map but would not say what it was that she looked for. Kili saw that it was not the map that she looked at longest, but the tiny writing on the back of the pages that she had never fully translated to the dwarves' satisfaction. Fili noticed it, too, but he sat quietly, sharpening his swords, and when the night arrived, he went out to take his watch without a word to her.

He looked at her before he passed out into the cold, but her eyes were on her pages. Only after he had gone did Kili see Betta look up and look after him. She was frowning and seemed to be thinking hard on something, but then she shook her head, dismissing the idea. When she realized that he was watching her, she hid her frowns and bid him good night, putting away the pages and laying down on her blanket with her back to him. Kili went to his rest soon after.

There were no deep conversations that night. The company slept long and deep when they were not taking their turn at watch; and when they were, they sat upon the hillside, shivering under the watchful eyes of ghosts. The little that they had to eat was not enough to fill their bellies day or night and food was always on their minds and invading their dreams. Fili guessed that they had no more than two days before they would be forced to turn back toward habitable lands or risk not make it home at all.

* * *

**A special thanks to those wonderful readers who have offered advice and put up with my pestering questions. This story will be much improved by your comments and critique.**

**Also, OMG! How did I not realize that Martin Freeman is in The World's End? I cannot wait to see that!**

**-Paint**


	57. Chapter 57

The next morning, the dwarves hunted the hills around their campsite but found nothing more than snow and sticks to eat. Their breakfast was a bite of cold meat and all the warm water that they could drink. Kili joked that they might boil a scrap of shoe-leather to flavor it, but Fili did not laugh. It was three weeks since they had left Ered Luin, and he knew that if he had planned the journey better, they would not have gone hungry so soon. That failure weighed heavily on his mind as he watched his brother and Betta growing weaker and thinner before his eye, and he wondered if even now they had the strength to reach the southern lands again.

He kept his worries to himself, and they marched out to a dull and cheerless day with little new to see or say. Within a few hours, Kili had successfully slowed his pace until Betta gave in and walked second in line along the path that Fili forced for them. It was a small and short-lived victory, however; he often had to walk ahead of her again to help his brother dig through the deeper drifts.

There was still some luck left in them as it had not snowed in the mountains for some time, and what was there, although it would not melt again for many months – if it ever melted in these frozen hills – had been hard-packed by the wind and sun. In many places the company was able to walk atop the drifts if they were careful with their steps. They would have had a much harder time if they had not lost their ponies.

As it was, Fili did most of the work to save the strength of his injured companions, but Kili's bruises were quick to heal. He was yet a young dwarf and nothing short of shattered bones would hold him back however much he might wince at the pain in his ribs. The dwarves and her own injury would not allow Betta to help them dig, and she was clearly frustrated by her lack of strength, perceiving herself to be a burden to them. A wrenched shoulder was not something that could be easily shrugged aside and try as she might, she had only a little of the hardiness of dwarves.

The deepening snow slowed their march, and the road was becoming difficult. The hills to their left rose up and formed a broken ridge that promised soon to become a sheer cliff-face. On the right hand side the hills fell lower. More and more the company looked down into step valleys and ravines. Fili knew that it was a dangerous change. The snow was packed high on the hills above and if it once began to slide, they might easily be caught in an avalanche and be buried.

If they survived the road and continued east to its end, they did not know what they would find there. Fili guessed – and Betta agreed – that their path would narrow as it approached the Wall that Harandir had described. Beyond that, he had warned, was the haunted land of Angmar and, if they made it that far, they must go no farther.

Although the landscape was all white with snow, there was much to see on either side of the road. The steep northern hills that Fili looked on with trepidation held much of the beauty of the north. Where the ridge were steep enough, bare stone shone through and the snow atop it was warmed by the sun so that it dripped down and formed long pillars of ice as intricate and delicate as lace, or as thick and solid as the carved columns in the halls of dwarves. Sometimes these pillars were flung over the road itself like great archways of elven-cut glass, but the company hurried past as quickly as they might, looking up at the heavy icicles that had been carved to razor sharpness and seemed ready to fall in the slightest wind.

On the southern side of the road, the lower lands would sometimes open up and reveal wide, pleasant valleys of ice-hung trees and frozen rivers sparkling in the sunlight like crystal. Twice in the farthest distance of these valleys, Kili's sharp eyes picked out what he claimed were herds of some of deer, but with long white fur and blunt horns. The dwarves could not name them, and they were too far away for bowshot – and too far from the road to risk leaving it to hunt them – but the sight of living animals it gave the company hope that they might find some other game in their path to supplement their dwindling store of food.

Apart from this small hope, there was little else to cheer them as they walked struggled along. The oppression of the hills was not lessened by the beauty of the ice sculptures, and the one time that Kili tried a song to lift the spirits of his companions, his voice failed after the second verse, for it echoed strangely against the hills. He fell silent and sang no more.

With little else to occupy him, Kili made a game of hanging back to watch his brother and their guide whenever there was a drift to climb or a patch of ice over which Fili must give Betta his arm. There was much to see from that view, and he was surprised that he had not noticed it before, but he also saw that it was good that he had not let Betta continue to walk at the end of their line. Although she had kept up with them easily enough in the morning, by afternoon, her steps had begun to falter and she might have lagged far behind if Kili had not been there to keep a close eye on her.

She said not a word in complaint for all her struggles, and he found that he respected her the more for it. When Fili turned back or asked how they got along, Betta lied and Kili supported her lie. They were already being treated as invalids; it was better not to give him anymore proof.

The little food was telling on the human of their company more than the dwarves, partly for her lack of dwarvish fortitude, but also because she had gone hungry more often in her life than had the nephews of Thorin Oakenshield. The brothers had had plenty to eat while they lived in the mountains, and there were regular feasts of meat and good food there, but Betta had been forced to scavenge for her own meals for the past two years and not all of the warm southern lands provided equally. Her body was used to hunger, but it had fewer resources to draw on in lean times.

By the late afternoon, as the sun began to fall from the sky, a cold and bitter wind had picked up and blew down from the eastern heights throwing ice and snow into their faces. With a full hour of daylight left, Fili had nonetheless begun to look for a place to camp that would get his company out of the wind. His eyes were on the valleys between the hills to his left and right, but Kili was looking forward and gave a shout, pointing ahead.

"Look there, upon the hill!" he called.

Fili looked up, following his brother's hand.

Half a mile in the distance, they all could see the sharp, black shadow of a tall standing stone outlined against the white snow. It was nearly the same shape and size as the one that they had camped under not thirty leagues back along the road.

"We need no longer search for a campsite tonight."

"That is some good news, at least," Betta said, and Kili agreed. He was worn down and his body ached, but seeing the stone, he found new energy and hurried on ahead. The others followed him, but slower. Betta's feet were dragging, and she could not hide how tired she was. Fili stayed beside her, shaking his head at his brother's impatience.


	58. Chapter 58

Half an hour later, the company arrived under the second standing stone and found that it was indeed almost identical to the last. It had been carved with the same sheltering hollow that looked down upon the road. This one was cut deep to withstand the colder weather and might almost have been called a small cave. Touching the cold, smooth surface, Fili guessed that the stones must have been rest-markers put there by the people that once dwelt among the hills and cut the road that they walked upon.

For a moment, he considered whether there would not be other places of shelter, stone huts even, similar to the one that he and Kili had found near the lost city of Ankor. They might offer a better place to camp than a half-open stone cave, but he cast the thought aside. It would take too long to search for them. Many long years had passed since civilized folk dwelt near to the mountains of Angmar, and any memory of them would be buried under the snow.

The writing on this stone was as unintelligible as the last, and the dwarves wasted little time trying to decipher it. Kili threw down his bundle of wood and began to lay out the fire while Fili took what little meat they had and prepared it for the cook pot.

There was no need to build the shelter with the stone behind and above them, and so once she had filled the pot with clean snow and set it beside Kili to await the fire, there was nothing left for Betta to do. She looked up the hill and saw a wide ridge many yards above that looked out north and east.

Without a word to the dwarves, she began the climb, forcing her tired legs to carry her up the steep side of the hill. The last light of the dying day painted the land around them with red and orange until the hills seemed to be splashed with blood or consumed by fire, but where the light could not reach it, the shadows lay cold and black as burnt coal. It might have been beautiful if not for the feeling of despair that hung over it all.

Fili looked up as Betta left the camp, and his eyes followed her up the hill. He frowned with troubled thought, not liking that any member of his company should wander far alone, but he did not call her back. Kili watched his brother, and his thoughts were no less troubled but by a wholly different thought.

"Where do you suppose she's gone?" he asked, once Betta was out of hearing.

Fili glanced at his brother, one eyebrow raised in a very pointed look. "Where do we each go in our turn after marching all day without pause?" he asked.

Kili frowned and shook his head. "That is not what I meant. She would not climb to the top of the hill just for that," he said. "Besides, I can see her from here, standing on that ridge. This is the second time that she has stood upon a hill and looked east. What do you think she looks for?"

Fili looked up the hill then turned back to his work. "I do not know her thoughts. You might ask her, but I do not know either whether she will give you an answer."

"No. But if _you_ asked, I think that she would answer you. Our roles have been reversed and she is far more attentive to your words than to mine."

"I think that you have let your imagination run away with your reason," Fili said.

"Perhaps." The fire was lit and Kili put the pot of snow on to melt. He then stood up and, glancing at Betta on the ridge, he turned his gaze down to the road and the hills below them. He was restless, but the snow was deep and he was too tired with hunger to force a path through it that would allow him pace out his anxious nerves.

"Sit still," Fili said. "What worries you tonight?"

"It is nothing," he answered, and then, "I hope that it is nothing."

Fili looked up and saw that his brother was truly upset. He stood up and looked around the empty hills, but the land below the road was very dark and might hide anything.

"You sense some new danger here, in this place?" he asked. "Call Betta down. We should…"

"No," Kili said, waving away his concerns, "it is no danger as you think it. No orcs or prowling wolves that I suspect. It is something else, and while it concerns our guide intimately, it is for you that I am most concerned."

"For me?" Fili smiled. He might have laughed, but his brother's face was serious, and it took something very serious to trouble Kili's light heart. "What is this remarkable danger, brother? It must be strange indeed that you should notice it and I should not." He threw a too-small handful of meat into the boiling water.

"Indeed, and I am amazed that you have not, but then, you can be very daft about certain things." Kili smiled and shook his head at his brother's puzzled expression. "I have never seen a dwarf-woman turn your eye the way that our guide has on this journey. It is a surprise to see you so attentive to one of the tall folk… although, she is not very tall, is she? And she is stronger than most of the women of her race, and more stubborn. Her hair would be quite fine, as well, if it were properly washed and braided, but it is a shame that she was not blessed with some small wisp of beard…"

"I do not understand you. It was you who encouraged me to be more trusting and considerate of her," Fili said. "That cannot be what worries you, and Betta's lack of beard is no part of it."

"But it is. Perhaps I have been wrong in this, but is it not right for me to warn my brother when I seem him setting out upon a dangerous road? Who knows you better than I do, Fili? No woman has ever turned your eye or reddened your cheeks until now. You have twice given over your will to Betta's, and that is a thing that I have never seen you do for anyone, unless it was for Thorin… or our mother."

"You are mistaken," Fili said, but he was troubled in his heart. "I have treated our guide no differently than I have treated you on this journey."

"And does that not give evidence to my point? _She_ is not your brother. Even before the wolves attacked, you had trusted her with one share of our watch, which was strange but reasonable enough at the time; but then, when the Ranger threatened to take her south against her will, I thought that you would kill him for it. There was murder in your eyes, Fili. That is not the mark of an indifferent dwarf."

Kili saw his brother's uneasiness and added quickly, "Do not misunderstand me. I do not mean to say that you are _in love_, only that you are on a path more perilous than the road beneath our camp. But if I am too late, and you have fallen by misfortune into love, then I will not turn my back on you – though I cannot say the same for our uncle. I wish only for my brother's happiness, however strange may be his choice in wife."

Fili had been staring with concern and surprise throughout this speech, but now he frowned and his face was confused. It was true that he had often felt how strange were his feelings toward their guide, but not until his brother gave name to it did he realize how his actions might look to another.

"I am glad to know that you would not abandon me to my shame, Kili," he said, "and I will not argue with what you may or may not have seen. You are right that you know me better than any dwarf, and better even than I know myself sometimes. Certainly, two weeks ago, I would not have cared if our guide should disappear, so long as I had got what I needed from her quest; it is as I have told her, that my opinion of her is very much improved. Where I stand now, she is under my protection and I would grieve her loss or injury, but I am not in love. It would be a strange dwarf indeed who could love outside his own race."

"Strange, but not unheard of."

"No, not unheard of, yet even if it were a common thing, it would change nothing. Even if your fears were confirmed, and my love for Betta was fully forged, there would be no choice in it for me. What heir of Durin would marry one of the tall folk? If you wish for my happiness, then know that there would be no happiness for me if I took a human wife. You say yourself, Thorin would not accept it. I may as well tell him that I would marry an elf, for all the love he would bear me then. Even for you who are not his declared heir, he would not accept it."

Fili frowned and crouched down beside the fire again, holding out his hands for warmth. "No, I must find my happiness with a dwarf-woman, or with no woman at all. That is the only choice that I have been given."

His words were firm, but his thoughts uneasy, and he felt a pain in his chest that was both familiar and yet a surprise to him. Often, in the past few days, he had reminded himself that once her quest was over, Betta would wish to go back to her own land; until now, he had not fully accepted that it would mean her leaving him. He had grown too used to her company, and the predictable way that she contradicted him at every turn.

Kili sighed and knelt down to stir the thin stew. It smelled bland and uninviting but made his stomach grumble all the same. He was relieved to hear his brother calm his fears, but in his heart he suspected that Fili was not being honest, with his brother or with himself.

"The meal is ready, if meal you can call it," he said. "I suppose that it is my turn tonight to retrieve our guide."

Fili looked up from his thoughts, and then he stood up. "No, I shall bring her down." Kili looked up in surprise, and he smiled.

"Do not be so nervous, brother," he said. "I see now the mistakes that I have made and know why our guide has refused to let me tend her arm. She has seen what you have seen and judged as you have judged me. If I have made her uncomfortable, then that is my wrong to right. I shall guard myself better in the future and with luck, win back her confidence before our journey ends. When the time comes for it, I do not wish to part with her on bad terms."

Kili nodded. He knew all of his brother's smiles, and this one was not genuine. He did not regret voicing his suspicions but wished now that he had seen and spoken sooner. He watched Fili walk up the hill to the ridge where Betta stood and wondered if his brother was not farther along that treacherous road than even he had guessed. Kili could only hope that if Fili was not willing to gainsay their uncle, then he was not so far gone as he could not turn back. There was some consolation in the fact that Fili himself had not been aware of his actions until now, and maybe knowing that Thorin would not approve would be enough to turn his eye toward one of the many dwarf-women who fawned over the next heir of Durin's line.

Kili hoped that it was so, although he did not have much confidence in the matter. He did know that, whatever path Fili walked upon, Kili would stand by his side and nothing short of death could part them.


	59. Chapter 59

Fili took his time walking up the hill to Betta's ridge. He had been confident in his objections to his brother, and it was easy to speak with Kili alone, but after hearing all that he had to say, the prospect of facing Betta and admitting his objections to her while she looked him in the face with her arms crossed and anger in her eyes had Fili as anxious and fidgeting as his brother. Kili was right and Fili had never before felt that way about any dwarf-woman, but it certainly could not be love. There were few dwarf-women, and fewer dwarf couples for him to observe, but he could not help but feel that no dwarf had ever been so apprehensive in their love as he felt now. Gloin had once said that he knew that he would marry his wife from the moment he laid eyes on her, and Dwalin always spoke as if his marriage to Frei had been inevitable.

But then, how many dwarves might have said the same of a love that had been felt only on one side?

Betta's shadow was no longer visible against dark sky, but he remembered where she stood. Not for the last time, he reminded himself of his true purpose in these cold hills, to win honor and a treasure that he might take back to Thorin. After he and his brother returned to Ered Luin, they would say farewell to their guide, and that would be the end of his troubles.

The ridge was higher than it seemed, and Fili was surprised that she had managed to force her way up through the snow when she was even more tired than he or his brother. His hunger hurried him up the last few steps and he turned round an outcrop of stone. Betta stood at the very edge of a sudden drop and she was peering through the dark down the north side of the hill.

"Carefully, there," he said. "My brother would never forgive me if you fell."

She was startled and turned around suddenly. Her face was wide with a proud smile, but when she saw which brother it was, her smile faltered and she quickly stepped back from the edge. "It is not so steep as it seems by this light," she said. "The worst you would need do is dig me out of a snowbank… but that would be even more trouble than I have already caused you, and so I shall take care."

"Whatever the steepness, I would rather that you did not fall," he said. He stepped up to the edge and looked around. The moon was nearly gone from the sky and there was little light to see by. "What did you hope to see up here?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said.

"If you looked for nothing, then you might have found it more easily down below. There is plenty of nothing nearer to the camp," he said, but he saw that the smile was pulling at her lips again, and he frowned; she so seldom smiled that he thought she must be laughing at him.

"Did you find your nothing, then?" he asked, a little less kindly than before.

"Oh, yes," she said. "There is plenty of nothing here, but there is also something down there." She turned and pointed down the northern slope. "Can you see it? That darker patch of shadow."

He stepped closer to her and looked where she aimed him, but he saw nothing. He would not admit that to her. "Yes, shadows," he said. "What of it?"

"What of it! It is made of trees!" she said, grinning in triumph. "I took my look before the sun left us, and with her last rays, she lit for me a thick patch of trees. Their branches are bare and shivering in the cold, and I saw no animals, but it is a broader wood than we have yet seen up here in the snow-covered north. You might catch us a rabbit, or at least a line of squirrels to best your brother's."

"I might, and I shall," Fili said. He, too, could not help but smile at the prospect of good food again, but when he looked at Betta he remembered what Kili had said, and his joy faltered. He quickly put away his smile. "The meal is cooked and ready to eat. I told my brother to wait for us, but I would not try his patience. His mouth was already watering when I left him."

"I did not think that it was your turn to fetch me tonight," she said. Her eagerness had fallen when Fili's smile had disappeared, and she seemed uncertain again. "I am sorry that you had to make the climb."

"I am not," he assured her. "I am glad to know where there are trees. It gives me hope for tomorrow, and I know that Kili shall sleep easier knowing it, too." He looked down again, hoping to see what she had tried to show him, but the sun had taken the last of her light from the sky and the hills below were all in shadow. Only the starlight and the thin silver moon shone down upon them.

"We should go down," Betta said.

Fili nodded, and she turned to go, but he did not move. He knew without thinking that she would wait for him, and she did.

"Was there something else?" she asked, reaching up to tug at her hair in her nervous habit.

"Yes," he said, but suddenly he found that he did not know what to say. Never before had he been tongue-tied this way. Not even when he and Kili had gotten into trouble as young dwarves and Thorin would shout and scold them had Fili ever been at a loss for explanation, but now when he most needed one, his mouth was dry and he had no words.

He looked down the hill and saw the reflection of the cooking fire glowing against the white snow. Betta followed his gaze.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

He strained his ears, listening for any sound of danger. The only thing he heard was the whisper of the wind and the distant snap of the twigs from the burning branches below. He was frustrated, first not being able to see the trees she showed him and now missing the sound that she could hear. He looked to Betta for an answer.

She smiled again, but sadly this time. "Do you not hear the fire burning? Sound carries far in these empty hills," she said. "You would think that the snow should dampen it, but it does not. I might even call your brother to us without needing to shout."

For a moment Fili did not understand. When he did, he felt his cheeks flush red as he realized that she would have been able to hear nearly all that he had said to his brother, and certainly she had heard what Kili said, which was the more damning half of their conversation.

"I am sorry," Fili said. He was ashamed and knew how harsh he must have sounded to her ears. "You were not meant to hear…"

Betta held up her hand to stop him. "Then it is I who should apologize," she said. "I did not mean to listen to words not meant for me, but the night was quiet and I could not help myself. I did not hear all you said, but what I heard was enough and you should know that it makes me glad. You are right that I saw what your brother saw, and it troubled me. As much as I told myself that I was mistaken, I could not know for sure until I heard it from your own mouth, but I was too afraid to ask."

"Am I right then, and this is why you refused to let me tend your arm?"

"In part," she admitted, "but the wound is healed and needs no more tending. I would have refused in either case. It is too cold for bare arms."

"I have been careless in my actions towards you, and I am glad that you are not angry with me for what I have done," Fili said, but in his heart he felt only disappointment that she so quickly accepted his account of it.

"I am relieved to find my fears unfounded," Betta told him, "although I admit that I have been torn in my heart. If you did love me, as a dwarf and a prince, I know that I could not have had you, nor you me, and it would be a grief to me that I had caused you pain." She shrugged her uninjured shoulder and added, "Of course, if you had loved me as a Man of my own race and station, and if we succeeded in making it back safe and whole to Ered Luin, then I might say that your uncle would have had a hard battle to keep you. I do not easily give up on what I want, and I have lost too much in my life to let pass so valuable an unlooked-for treasure as I have found in you."

Fili stared at her and, not for the first time, not for the last time, found himself with no words to say.

She laughed and looked away, her cheeks flush red against her white face. "But all that means nothing to you, and I am amazed that you are not laughing at me now. I think that hunger has addled my brain; it makes me babble like a foolish girl. I must remember that though the elves have made a habit of marrying into my race, a dwarf never shall. We should go down and fill our bellies before I speak anymore nonsense."

"Indeed."

Fili could say nothing more. Betta's words confirmed that she had not heard _all_ that had been said below, for Kili had reminded his brother that there were a small number of dwarves that had married with the tall folk. They were shunned by their families and lived apart from both Men and Dwarves until the lesser-lived half of them perished. Then, the dwarf – for it was always the dwarf who outlived his or her spouse – would return and live out their remaining days in grief and shame, looked upon with pity by all who knew their sad story.

It was no future for the heir of the great Thorin Oakenshield. Fili did not correct Betta's assumption. He thought it kinder to let her believe that their match was an impossibility than that she should think that he did not want her.

They started down the hill together. Betta did not hesitate to take Fili's arm when it was offered to her, and he helped her over the steep and slippery slope that lead down to the camp. She was no longer reluctant to be touched by him for in her mind, the matter was settled, and her heart had not yet learned to take up cause against her reason.

When they returned, Kili looked with interest at his brother's hand upon their guide's arm. He saw Betta's pleased expression and Fili's unhappy frown, but he said nothing and handed them over two bowls of watery stew and two thin slices of stale bread. That was all that they would have to eat that night, and for breakfast the same but without the bread. If they wished for food after that, then they must hope that the trees Betta had seen held more than bare branches and snow.


End file.
